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‘No people-food for Gilly’ was the byword for the Marillion family as of late.
Gilly (short for ‘High King Gil-galad, Uniter of Peoples, Ender of Wars’) was the family cat. Solid grey, with short whiskers and a long tail, the diminutive cat quickly wound her way into their home and hearts when Celebrían bought her from the city animal shelter. She was well into middle age now, and at their last check-up, the veterinarian strongly recommended getting her to lose weight.
They got a prescription for special food to help with that and the whole family sat down one evening to draw out a feeding plan. Everyone promised to follow the plan and check the feeding chart taped above her food dish to make sure she wasn’t overfed because multiple people thought she still needed dinner.
Gilly was, needless to say, not happy with the new world order. She meowed at the dinner table. She meowed in the middle of the kitchen. She meowed at the kids when they came home from school. She meowed whenever she thought she could get little morsels of taste food from her people’s hands. She’d always been good at getting handouts, tricking them with pitiful, hungry cries, or doing something cute, and her efforts doubled now that she couldn’t get more kibble.
The family stood resolute against her lies, petting and playing with her but never offering her food outside of her meals. Well, most of them did, anyway. It didn’t take long for everyone to realize who was slipping up.
Elrond was in the kitchen, putting together a plate of leftovers to eat because he’d gotten home late and missed dinner. He'd been struggling with a bout of insomnia again, and tired circles were forming under his eyes.
Arwen sat at the table, working on a multiplication sheet while her brothers played with action figures on the stairs (by the sound of it, they were in the midst of a dramatic battle). Celebrían was sitting next to her daughter, penciling in options on a sudoku puzzle and helping Arwen when she got stuck.
Gilly, previously lounging in the living room, walked into the dining room. She inspected the stairs, ears pointed toward the noise before ultimately deciding whatever was happening was of no interest to her. She took a winding way between the chair legs and under the table, coming out next to Arwen. With a mew, she jumped up onto the pre-teen’s lap.
Arwen ran a hand down her head and back as she inspected the table's contents. Finding them lacking, Gilly rubbed her chin against Arwen’s arm and jumped back to the floor, wandering away.
Rather tired of the times tables, Arwen looked away from her homework to watch the cat. If she hadn’t, they might never have worked out that someone wasn’t following the agreed-upon feeding plan, which made few allowances for treats and completely prohibited letting Gilly ‘steal’ food that ‘fell’ on the floor.
Gilly trotted into the kitchen and sat between the counter and the refrigerator.
“Mew?” She asked, looking up at Elrond, and began to purr.
Elrond looked down at her, plate ready to go into the microwave to warm up rice, kidney beans, sautéed vegetables, and a few pieces of chicken.
Gilly purred louder, expectant.
Elrond pulled apart a bit of chicken with his fingers.
“Dad!” Arwen exclaimed.
His hand jerked away from the cat but not before she took the treat from his fingers. A guilty look crept onto his face as Gilly happily gulped down the offering and then rubbed against his pant legs.
“Dad,” Arwen complained, “we promised! You can't do that.”
Now everyone was looking at the pleased cat and guilty father. Celebrían hid a smile behind her hand. Elrond looked at her for help but she just shook her head.
Elladan and Elrohir slid down the stairs. “Did Dad just give Gilly something?” They asked their sister.
“He gave her chicken,” she said, incensed that their dad, of all people, would cave to Gilly's demands so easily like it was a habit.
“Can we give her chicken?” Elrohir asked. He was having a harder time teaching Gilly tricks now that he couldn't use as many treats as he wanted.
“No,” Celebrían said, shaking her head. “We're still following the plan, Dad just messed up a little—like everyone does.”
That smoothed the drama over. The children went back to what they were doing, Elrond warmed up his food and came to the table, happy cat trailing behind him.
“How long has that been going on?” Celebrían asked that night when she and Elrond were in bed.
“What?”
“You, feeding Gilly from the counter?”
“Oh,” he sighed and put a hand over his eyes. He groaned. “Off and on. Usually when I can’t sleep, and she follows me around.”
“Even when she was still brand new?”
“Yeah.”
Celebrían coughed around a laugh.
“What?” Elrond asked, lowering his arm and turning his head to look at her. “Why’s that funny?”
“It’s just, you were so hesitant about getting a cat and you looked so awkward when you had to move her from where you wanted to sit or any time you had to interact.” He hadn’t grown up around any pets. While he was competent with horses thanks to his family’s insistence that everyone be able to ride and go camping on horseback (odd, for people who outwardly seemed as though they would be out of their depth if they ever set foot anywhere less developed than a suburb), the only other animals he’d interacted with were his uncle’s hunting dogs. An experience he admitted often wasn’t very pleasant. “Is that why she warmed up to you so well? You fed her in the middle of the night?”
A pause.
“Probably.”
She turned, resting her head on his pillow, and kissed him lightly. “You’re cute.”
He kissed her back.
She pressed a finger to the tip of his nose. “Though, try not to do it again in front of the kids or we could have a riot of incensed Gilly-lovers.”
He hummed acknowledgment. “Wouldn’t want that happening.”
“But Gilly would and she clearly has you under her paw.”
“Hmm, possibly.”
Out in the hallway, Gilly stalked an imaginary mouse.