Eve drove the kitten to the no-kill animal shelter. Upon entering, she answered the questions the young worker asked her as she reluctantly turned over the kitten to her.
“Ally,” she said, reading the young woman’s name tag, “he will be well cared for here, right?”
“Oh, this kitty will receive the best care!” the slender, dark-haired girl of Middle Eastern descent responded. “Just ask my friend Shirley over there. She can tell you about any of the cats in here. She loves to comment on them all. Anything at all you want to know, just ask Shirley Irene Presley. Of course, she hates to be called Shirley. That’s why we just call her by her initials.”
“S-I-P?” Eve asked, smiling.
“Yeah, we call her SIP. I know, from the name, it sounds like she is taking sips of brandy from a flask or something, but I assure you she isn’t. No one’s as 'with-it' as our SIP.”
“Well, glad to hear that,” Eve said. “I just may have to come back and ask her how this little fellow is doing.”
With that, she turned and walked out the door. She wondered if she should drive or head back to the Blue Note on foot.