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Well, I did leave out a couple of things. I didn't tell him about the petting, or the cheek kissing or nibbling or licking, I didn't tell him she slept in my bed every night now, or that every night she'd sit in my lap and nuzzle against me while I tried to concentrate on anything besides my throbbing erection.

He sat there and listened to everything, nodding and rubbing his chin, and at the end he sat quietly for a moment.

"Well?" I finally asked, growing impatient.

"Brett, you're not going to like what I have to say."

"I never do, spit it out."

"Well, on the one hand, this could be harmless, it might just be a way she's been able to open up to you, something that makes her feel safe and comfortable enough that she can begin healing."

"Well great, there we go, that's all I needed to hear," I laughed, standing up, but Dr. Jennings grabbed my knee and I slowly sat back down.

"However, Brett, this could be something incredibly serious. This could be the first symptoms of a larger issue, possibly dissociative in nature, and if we don't treat it now, it could destabilize her psyche and do very real, permanent damage."

"Oh, well, dissociative?" I asked.

"Schizophrenia, multiple personality disorders, that sort of thing. It's early and it's hard to tell, especially when she won't talk to me, but-"

"Ok, ok, so what do you want to do?" I asked bluntly, crossing my arms.

"I want to start seeing her again, twice a week, and I want you to go back to the psychiatrist and get her on those anti depressants and anti anxiety meds. It'll be a good start, and if we can't-"

"A start? Jesus, doc, what all are you gonna do to her to get her to stop pretending she's a cat?" I groaned, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Well, if that doesn't work, we might have to have to up the meds, possibly consider more drastic options, shock therapy, for one, has been known to-"

"Shock therapy?" I yelled, almost pulling my hair out. "Shock therapy?"

"Lower your voice, or she'll be able to hear you from the lobby."

"No, no fucking way! I've heard enough, Jennings, this is the biggest load of bullshit anyone's ever tried to get me to swallow, and you know it!"

I don't even remember standing up, but somehow I was towering over him as he sat calmly, staring up at me.

"I'm simply trying to do what's best for-"

"Ah fuck off!" I yelled, grabbing the door.

"Yes, well, Mr. Meyer, if you're not prepared to get her the proper treatment, you very well may end up the proud owner of a cat for the rest of your life," he told me, smug and self assured.

"Yeah, well," I roared, opening the door. "She'll be the best god damn cat anyone's ever had!"

I have to admit I probably looked insane, slamming the door behind me, turning to see a lobby full of parents and kids, maybe none total, staring up at me, jaws dropped in confusion, silent.

In the corners huddled up in a little ball, was Danika, hiding her face in her stuffed cat and staring at the ground.

I regained my composure and shook it off, taking a deep breath or two before walking up to her.

"Come on, let's get out of here," I told her, holding out my hand.

She was reluctant, staring up at me with big, scared eyes, but she looked into my eyes and I smiled, and she slowly put her hand in mine.

I was still furious on the drive home, trying not to speed as we drove in silence.

"Meow?" She asked, and I shook my head.

"We're never going back there, I'm never gonna take you to see that fuckwad shrink again, ok, kitten, I promise." I assured her, reaching over and grabbing her hand.

She looked away, then turned back to me.

"Meow?" She asked again.

"Yeah, I'm a little angry, ok, but not at you, never at you, understand? I'm not going to sit here and let anyone tell me that you need to be stuffed with pills because you're, a little, well," I looked at her, shrugging a little, "eccentric."

She stared up at me, and a I f

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