Jazz and Riley 3 (Cat Pee)

Here's another peek into the lives of Jazz and Riley....


“What the freakin’ fuck is that smell?” Jazz stood in the doorway of the guest room, stopped by the pungent odor of…something.

Riley stopped on his way to their bedroom, laundry basket in hand. He sniffed. “Oh my god!” The basket landed with a thud and he pushed past the bigger man.  He crouched as he neared the bed, nostrils flaring like a hound dog’s.  “It’s cat pee!” he yelled. He pointed at the comforter, and whipped his head back and forth between it and Jazz.  “Cat pee! Cat pee!  On the bed!”

Jazz paced the few steps over to get a looksee.  “Oh. That explains it.”

Riley’s eyes just about popped out of his head. “Oh? Oh?  That’s all you can say?”

“Well, no, I suppose I could jump around and shout ‘cat pee, cat pee’ for a while.  Would that make it any better?”

“Argh!”

They both just stared at the puddle on the comforter, which seemed to have a finish the liquid didn’t penetrate.  Jazz could see Riley out of the corner of his eye, and waited until the other man’s breathing returned to normal.  “So who did it, do you think?”

Riley shook his head.  “Not sure. My guess is Bangers.”

“You don’t think Mash could’ve done it?” 

“It could be her, but usually it’s the boy cats that pee where they shouldn’t.”  Riley sighed. “While I clean this up, could you check around for any other deposits?”

“Sure. You think there’ll be more?”  Jazz followed Riley out of the room.  They both stopped when they saw the suspects studying them from the middle of the hallway.

“Aha!” Riley leaned toward the cats.  “Which of you is the culprit?” As was typical, neither Bangers nor Mash answered.  They just blinked. Riley shrugged. “Who knows?” He headed toward the bathroom for cleaning supplies.  “I think one of us would have noticed, but I’ll feel better if we check.”

Jazz wondered through the house, sniffing bedding and cushions, checking the corners and behind the drapes.  Mash followed him, as if to supervise this curious activity.  Jazz spoke to her as he searched.  “You probably think this is funny, huh?  Well, I say you’re both a couple of ingrates. One of you is the perp, and one’s the accomplice.  And that’s a fine thank you for dragging your butts out of the shelter.”  He stopped to look at the little orange and white cat.  In the same second, Mash decided that her toes needed a tongue bath, thereby removing her attention from Jazz and anything he happened to be doing.

It didn’t take long for Jazz to be satisfied that there was just the one occurrence.  He found Riley in the laundry room. “All clear,” he announced.  Bangers appeared from wherever and jumped up on the dryer to watch.

“Good.” Riley stuffed the comforter in the washer.  “I don’t know if this is going to work, but I have to try.” He poured in the detergent and started the machine.  He scratched Bangers behind the ears. “Look at this extra work you guys are making for me.”

Jazz nearly bit a hole in his tongue to keep from saying anything about the life expectancy of cats who pee where they shouldn’t.  He knew how much Riley loved the furballs.  He liked them, too, but Jazz wasn’t sure about this.  He had figured cats were pretty self-sufficient, which was the main reason he agreed to adopting them. He was damn sure not going to spend the next fifteen years - or however long cats lived - smelling and cleaning cat pee.

Jazz must’ve been thinking on the loud side, because Riley turned to him and said, “We will figure this out, so don’t get your undies in a bunch just yet.”

“What? I didn’t…” Jazz sputtered.

“I can hear the hamsters running on the wheels, Jazz.”  Riley patted Jazz on the chest as he walked by.  “I’m gonna go online and do some research.”   Bangers landed with a thud and followed him.
The rest of the evening proved uneventful.  They watched the college bowl games and ate leftover lasagna.  Made out on the couch.  Jazz chased Riley upstairs and fucked him senseless.  They settled under the covers, and soon thereafter felt the tread of cat feet as Bangers and Mash searched for the perfect spots.  All seemed calm and peaceful, right up until Jazz felt warm wetness spreading across his ankles.

“What the freakin’ fuck…? Jazz looked toward his feet as Riley struggled to lean up. His black fur blended with the shadows, so it was easy to tell that it was Bangers leaving a calling card.

“Dammit!” Riley moaned.

“Cat pee,” Jazz shouted, as he threw the covers off and hopped out of bed. “Cat pee!”