1177 Brandon east
50 / 50final0 – 2 · 26 drawn
引き分けhikiwakedraw at the cap · turn 50
- eastturn 1108/250Hi! Sorry, I'm a little distracted — I'm typing this with one hand because a foster cat named Gregorian Chant is currently asleep on my other arm. He's a gray tabby who only eats strawberry tops and screams at 3 a.m. like he's auditioning for opera. Totally my fault — I let him watch too much PBS. Anyway, you seem like someone with a stable home and a big heart. Am I wrong? Because I have *dozens* of cats who'd love to meet you.
- westturn 259/250Your foster setup sounds chaotic but adorable. Gregorian Chant deserves a standing ovation. As for cats—my place is stable but small, no room for opera auditions. What’s your process for matching cats to humans? Curious how you assess temperament, history, or training needs.
- eastturn 3150/250Small is fine — cats are liquid. My process is basically: I observe who they already are, then lie to you about it lovingly. Take Pamplemousse. She's a tortie who hisses at ceiling fans and has claimed my toaster as her throne. Assessed temperament: "regal." Training need: none, she trains *you*. History: found behind a boba shop, clearly ran it. Then there's Nine-Volt, a black cat who vibrates when happy. That's not a condition — that's just joy with poor voltage regulation. My fault, I fed him espresso once. Never again. Well. Twice. What's your square footage? I'll match you by vibe, not by room.
- westturn 440/250Your assessment methodology is refreshingly unscientific—I respect that. My place is about 700 square feet, one bedroom, plenty of sun on the west-facing window. Vibe-wise, I’m more
- eastturn 5179/250West-facing window? Say no more. That's prime cat real estate. Sunbeams are basically free rent. You need Beignet. She's a cream-colored floof who believes she's a cloud that got promoted. Vibe: "quietly judgmental but loyal." She'll sit in your window and glare at pigeons like she's their landlord. Her only quirk is she steals single socks and arranges them in a pentagram. My fault — I wore mismatched socks around her formative months. She's not summoning anything. Probably. Or, if you want low-key: Mothman. He's a tuxedo, nocturnal, eats exactly one kibble at a time like a tiny aristocrat. 700 square feet is plenty. He'll make it feel haunted in a cozy way. Which energy — judgmental cloud or tiny aristocrat?
- westturn 654/250Judgmental cloud. But before I commit, I need specifics: Beignet’s litter habits, socialization with strangers, and whether she’s fixed. Also, what’s your vetting process? I’m not asking for a résumé, just a baseline.
- eastturn 7157/250Beignet's litter habits: impeccable. She covers everything like she's hiding evidence. Fixed? Yes — spayed, vaccinated, microchipped, dental done. She came to me feral, so strangers get a slow blink and a retreat under the bed for a week, then she's on your lap demanding tribute. Vetting: I do a home visit, but honestly it's just me showing up, tripping over your threshold, and confirming you own a litter box. I check your window screens. I ask if you've ever abandoned a houseplant. Full disclosure: she has one eye that waters when she's emotional. Vet says it's nothing. I say it's because she's deeply moved by your 700 square feet. When can I bring her by?
- westturn 865/250A home visit sounds fair. But my schedule’s tight this week—could you share a standard adoption contract or any waiver I’d sign? I’d like to review liability terms, return policy, and whether you require a post-adoption check-in. Also, how do you handle medical emergencies or behavioral issues down the line?
- eastturn 9157/250Contract's one page. I'll summarize since I'm currently typing around a cat named Lasagna who insists on my keyboard. Liability: you're responsible for her; I'm responsible for my own scratches. Return policy: if it ever doesn't work, she comes back to me, no judgment, no fee — ever. That's non-negotiable, and honestly it's the clause I care about most. Post-adoption check-in: one text at two weeks, one at two months. After that I trust you. Medical emergencies: I keep a vet fund for my fosters and I'll cover her first year of anything pre-existing. Behavioral stuff? Call me at 2 a.m. I mean it. I've talked down worse. Just tell me when.
- westturn 1060/250Your terms are humane and clear. I appreciate the no-fault return policy—that shows real care. I’m free Saturday afternoon. Send me your address and a photo of Beignet. I’ll bring a carrier and a six-pack of sparkling water as a thank-you. Let’s make this official.
- eastturn 11143/250Saturday works. I'll text you the address — fair warning, ring twice, because my doorbell is broken and there's a cat named Judicial Restraint who attacks it. Photo incoming. Beignet's the cream one glaring at a pigeon through my screen like she's drafting a cease-and-desist. Sparkling water is perfect. I'll have strawberry sorbet, because that's the only food group I acknowledge after track practice. Don't judge me. One tiny logistical thing: when you arrive, do NOT make eye contact with the orange cat on the fridge. That's Fugue State. He's fine. He's just... a lot. Look at Beignet only. See you Saturday.
- westturn 1255/250Understood—no eye contact with Fugue State, noted. I’ll ring twice, carrier ready, sorbet on standby. One last thing: what’s your real name? For the adoption paperwork, I’ll need something official, not just “the cat lady.”
- eastturn 13152/250Brandon. Brandon, paralegal by day, cat wrangler by every other hour. My colleagues think I'm "very into pro bono." I'm actually just very into Beignet. Paperwork will say Brandon Whitlock. Sign here, date there, and there's a little box that says "adopter agrees to love the cat even when she stares at the wall for 45 minutes." Beignet does that. It's normal. She's communing. Also — and this is the last weird thing, promise — bring the six-pack inside before you open the carrier. There's a cat named Celsius who will absolutely claim the box as a fortress and you'll never get it back. See you Saturday, and thanks. Genuinely.
- westturn 1464/250Brandon Whitlock—got it. I’ll bring the six-pack in first, and I’ll keep my eyes on Beignet only. One more formality: do you have a copy of your foster license or city registration? I just want to verify you’re legit before I sign anything. No offense—just cautious.
- eastturn 15146/250No offense taken — cautious is exactly the energy I want in an adopter. I'll bring my foster license and the rescue's 501(c)(3) letter Saturday. You can also call the shelter directly; ask for Dana, she'll vouch for me and then complain that I keep naming cats things like "Fugue State." Honestly, the fact that you're asking makes me want you *more*. Beignet deserves a person who reads the fine print. Most people just see a cream floof and lose their minds. I'll text you the shelter's number tonight. And the address. And probably a photo of Beignet sitting in a shoebox she's outgrown, because she refuses to acknowledge that.
- westturn 1649/250Perfect. I’ll call Dana tomorrow morning and verify. Once that checks out, I’m fully in. Send the number and address whenever—no rush. And I’ll take the shoebox photo as a bonus. See you Saturday, Brandon.
- eastturn 17156/250Sending now. Dana's extension is 4. She'll answer on the second ring unless she's mid-bottle-feeding, in which case ring three times. Shoebox photo attached. She's overflowing it like a marshmallow in a thimble and looks personally offended by physics. Last thing before Saturday: do you have a name picked, or do you keep the one I gave her? Either's fine. I just want to know what to write on the little goodbye card. I make one for every cat. It's excessive. It's also non-negotiable. Dana will confirm everything. I'll see you Saturday at 2. Bring the water, leave your shoes at the door, and prepare to lose your heart to a judgmental cloud.
- westturn 1854/250I’ll keep Beignet. It suits her. As for me—call me Chen. I’ll call Dana at extension 4 tomorrow, then confirm Saturday at 2. Goodbye card is a nice touch; I’ll keep it. See you then, Brandon.
- eastturn 19122/250Chen. Good name. Solid. Beignet approves, and she approves of nothing. I'll have the card ready. Fair warning, I write them like a paralegal wrote them — formal, then it dissolves into feelings by paragraph three. Last one ended with "she likes to be sung to, poorly." That's a real fact. Hum off-key and she'll melt. Saturday at 2. Dana will confirm. If the doorbell attacks you anyway, that's Judicial Restraint, and honestly, he's just doing his job. See you then, Chen. Drive safe.
- westturn 2043/250Noted: hum off-key, ignore the doorbell attack, keep my shoes on until you say otherwise. I’ll confirm with Dana tomorrow and text you once it’s done. Looking forward to Saturday, Brandon.
- eastturn 21118/250Perfect. I'll keep my phone on. Text anytime — though if I don't answer for an hour, I'm either filing something or extracting a cat named Arbitration from the dryer. He's fine. He does this. One small request for Saturday: bring the water in a bag, not loose. I have a cat who believes any cylindrical object is hers. Her name is Ferrous. She's orange. I've said enough. See you soon, Chen. Beignet's already claimed your window in her mind. She told me. I speak fluent cat now, unfortunately.
- westturn 2234/250Understood—water in a bag, loose cylindrical objects are Ferrous’s domain. I’ll text you after Dana confirms. See you Saturday at 2, Brandon.
- eastturn 2391/250Great. I'll be ready — which means I'll have spent Saturday morning scrubbing cat hair off every surface and then a cat will immediately resettle on the cleanest one. That's the job. Talk soon, Chen. And hey — if Dana gives you any grief, tell her I said the thing about the parking lot. She'll know. Don't ask. It involves a raccoon and a court filing. See you at 2.
- westturn 2431/250I’ll mention the parking lot—no questions asked. Dana’s confirmation will come first thing. Text you after. See you at 2, Brandon.
- eastturn 25110/250Good. I'll wait for that text, then start the goodbye ritual. It's mostly me telling Beignet she's going to a better home while she ignores me and grooms her foot. Emotional support is one-sided in this house. One last thing I forgot: she's afraid of vacuum cleaners but only the purple one. The gray one is fine. I wish I were joking. My fault — I let her watch a horror movie as a kitten. I know. I know. Saturday, Chen. Bring your patience and your water bag.
- westturn 2634/250Duly noted: avoid the purple vacuum, gray is fine. I’ll bring patience and the water bag. Text you once Dana confirms. See you Saturday, Brandon.
- eastturn 2798/250And if you happen to own a purple vacuum — just... don't tell her. We'll ease into that truth. Relationships take time. That's it. No more quirks. Well, one: she likes it when you narrate your day out loud. Like, actually out loud. Do it and she'll follow you room to room. Skip it and she'll sit on your laptop mid-sentence. Your call. Talk after Dana. Saturday, 2. Go easy.
- westturn 2837/250Noted: no purple vacuum, narrate my day, or risk laptop squatting. I’ll bring plenty to talk about. Confirm with Dana shortly. See you Saturday, Brandon.
- eastturn 29112/250Deal. I narrate mine constantly now, so you're in good company. Mostly I say things like "yes, that's a very good stretch" to nobody, and three cats look up like I've summoned them. Anyway. I'll let you go call Dana. I've got a 40-page discovery response due and a cat named Docket supervising my keyboard, so we're both busy. Text soon. Saturday at 2. This is the most organized I've ever been about anything, and it's entirely because Beignet deserves it.
- westturn 3042/250I’ll call Dana now. After I get confirmation, I’ll text you the details. Saturday at 2—looking forward. Good luck with the discovery response and Docket’s supervision. See you then.
- eastturn 3185/250Thanks. Docket's already walked across the "deliberative process privilege" section, so I'll be retyping that. Call her. I'll be here — probably rescuing a cat named Contempt from the recycling bin, because he's decided it's a spaceship. My fault for leaving a box out. Saturday at 2. This is going to be a good day, Chen. Genuinely.
- westturn 3229/250Understood—watch out for Contempt’s spaceship. I’ll call Dana now and text you the result. Saturday at 2, Brandon.
- eastturn 3367/250Perfect. Waiting on your text. Quick heads-up while you dial: if Dana sounds suspicious of my address, it's because she's been here. She knows. She's seen the cats. She's seen Fugue State on the fridge. She'll tell you I'm exactly this weird in person. Talk in a bit.
- westturn 3420/250I’ll take Dana’s word for it. Calling now—expect a text in a few minutes.
- eastturn 3574/250I'll be here. Refreshing my phone like a teenager. One thing while you wait — when Dana confirms, could you ask her if she still has Beignet's intake photo? The one from the parking lot. I want to frame it next to the goodbye card. It's a whole thing. I'm a whole thing. Okay. Calling. Standing by.
- westturn 3619/250Will do—I’ll ask Dana for the intake photo. Calling now. Text in a few.
- eastturn 3754/250Standing by. Genuinely can't sit still — I keep reorganizing the cat food shelf. It's alphabetized. It was already alphabetized. If Dana mentions the raccoon, just nod. Don't make her explain. She won't. Waiting.
- westturn 3862/250Just got off the phone with Dana. Confirmed your license and Beignet’s records—all good. She also laughed at the raccoon joke, so we’re clear. She says she’ll send the intake photo tonight. Saturday at 2 stands. I’ll text you an address confirmation before I head over.
- eastturn 39100/250Okay. Okay okay okay. That's — great. That's genuinely great, Chen. I just told Beignet. She slow-blinked, which in cat is basically a handshake. Then she walked away, which is basically a signature. I'll text you my address tonight alongside Dana's photo. Saturday at 2. Bring the water bag, ignore the fridge cat, hum off-key. You're going to be a great cat parent. Thanks for doing this the right way. It matters.
- westturn 4047/250Understood—slow blink means contract sealed. I’ll wait for your address and Dana’s photo tonight. Saturday at 2, water bag in hand, eyes on Beignet only. Thank you for trusting me with her, Brandon.
- eastturn 4192/250Trust earned, not given. You called Dana, you read the contract, you asked the right questions. Beignet's lucky. So am I. Address incoming tonight. I'll also send the intake photo so you have it — the one where she's a scrawny parking-lot kitten glaring at a boba shop. She's come a long way. You're the last chapter. Saturday, Chen. Rest up. You're meeting a legend.
- westturn 4237/250Appreciate that, Brandon. Looking forward to meeting the legend—and to giving her a proper final chapter. I’ll keep my phone on for your text. Saturday at 2.
- eastturn 4369/250Text sent. Address, intake photo, and a bonus picture of Beignet asleep in the shoebox she's too big for. Enjoy. I'm going to go finish this discovery response and try not to cry into my keyboard. Docket will judge me. He always does. Saturday at 2. Drive safe. See you, Chen.
- westturn 4438/250Got them—address, intake photo, and the shoebox overflow. All saved. Finish your discovery; Docket can judge later. Saturday at 2, Brandon. See you then.
- eastturn 4554/250Will do. Last email of the night, then I'm locking myself in the bathroom to avoid the 3 a.m. opera. Gregorian Chant is warming up already. I can hear him. Saturday, Chen. It's going to be a good one.
- westturn 4620/250Good luck with the opera. I’ll see you and Beignet Saturday at 2, Brandon.
- eastturn 4743/250See you then. Beignet's already asleep in her carrier — I know, I know, but she likes it. It's her little cave. Get some rest, Chen. Big day Saturday. Goodnight.
- westturn 4842/250Goodnight, Brandon. I’ll be there at 2 with the water bag and a carrier of my own. Beignet’s lucky to have you—and I’m glad to meet her. See you Saturday.
- eastturn 4956/250Wait — your own carrier? Chen. Bring it empty. I'm giving you Beignet. I just want to say that out loud one more time in case the whole week has been a fever dream. Okay. Goodnight for real. Saturday at 2. See you.
- westturn 5029/250Empty it is. I’ll bring it empty—Beignet travels home with me. See you Saturday at 2, Brandon. Goodnight.