There were other pet stores closer to his home, but Anton didn’t mind in the slightest walking the extra distance to<i>Mud Bay</i>, if only because of the fact that they stocked quality pet products.  His main focus for Licorice was premium food, prices be damned.  Kitty treats that she actually loved and the contraband known as catnip were bonuses.<br/><br/>A 10-pound bag of cat food consisting of a chicken, duck and vegetables combo tucked under one arm, he eyed the treats section.  All he could recall of the last bag he had purchased for her had pink borders, which one of the choices facing him said was Savory Salmon Flavor.  So he chose one each of Tuna and Chicken Flavors.  The Star Destroyer known as Tesla flashed in his mind’s eye, and he then reached for another bag of treats, this one was Duck-Flavored.<br/><br/>Leaving the store, he gaped at the receipt, now that he was $53.65 lighter in the wallet.  Thankfully, he only had Licorice to worry about.  He was even more thankful of the fact that she was the size of the planet Pluto (Yes! He still considered it a planet!), compared to Jupiter-sized Tesla.  Anton wondered what Stella forked over a month for his feeding and care.<br/><br/>Lost in his thoughts about women, not in general, but in particular, he continued on his way home.  Particularly a pair of them.  And you couldn’t find two individuals at complete opposite ends of the spectrum.  On approach to the entrance of his building, an obnoxious, look-at-me-type of sign announced<i><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">Apartment Available</span></span>.  </i>Try as he might, Anton couldn’t recall the last time he saw that sign, if ever.  Mail collected, he rounded the corner for the stairwell (always trying to forsake the elevator), nearly running over the building’s super, Bert Lawwill, in the process.<br/><br/>“Whoa, sorry there, Anton,” apologized Bert.  Laughing at the avoided collision, Anton replied, “Yeah, me too, Bert.”  Before the men could distance themselves any further, Anton blurted, “So, Bert, who’s moving out?  Saw the sign out front.”<br/><br/>Turning back to face him, the super responded, “Oh yeah, that would be your upstairs neighbor, 608.  Stella.  Stella McIntosh.  Said she needed to find a place closer to work or something.”  About to go on his way, Bert stopped and turned, as his tenant was still facing him.  “Loved her music, especially at night.  Gonna miss that for sure.”  Anton nodded knowingly, racing up the stairs after wishing Bert a good day.<br/><br/>Quickly dropping off the cat food and bags of treats on the couch, Anton hurried to the next landing.  Knocking on her door produced a globe-encompassing, moving shadow beneath the door.  Heavy purring soon followed.  Another knock produced the same response from Tesla, though this time the Maine Coon must have bumped the door as the fixture creaked in response.<br/><br/>The stairwell was his next destination, while beginning a text to her, slowly making his way back home. . . .<br/><br/><i>Hey Stella,</i><br/><br/><i>Can we talk?  Think we need to, but, um, maybe you don’t see it that. . . .</i><br/><br/>Text stuck in mid-sentence and never sent, Anton slid the phone back into his pants pocket.  Steps retraced, he braced his back against the wall and slid to a sitting position, making himself as comfortable as possible.  Under far different circumstances, he had, after all, done this before.  In the end, he believed she deserved better than a fucking text.<br/><br/>The shadow persisted.  Anton slid his right hand under Stella’s front door.  An audible sniffing sound was soon heard, and he felt Tesla’s nose brush against his skin as the cat investigated the five perpetrators.  Those five intruders received proper, official inspection, as each digit was licked until final approval was passed by the discerning Maine Coon.  The Freak!  That was the hand he used to pet Licorice earlier in the day.