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Scott just wants Kip to be excited.
Not that Kip isn’t ever excited about things.
He’s excited about a lot. He’s excited about spending time with the ones he loves. He’s excited about seeing a particularly large pigeon.
He’s excited about his research and finishing his PhD and teaching and his work at the museum, even if he complains about those things sometimes too. There’s just always funding bullshit or a student doing something stupid like using AI to write an entire essay or a shitty coworker that dampens the excitement and occasionally overpowers it entirely.
But there’s nothing dampening this excitement.
Kip’s practically bouncing off the walls of the PetSmart or Petco or wherever the hell they are—why do all these stores have such similar names anyway?—as they look at cat beds and collars and the millions of other things cats apparently require.
Is it a crime to want to preserve this kind of excitement? If it is, lock him up. Scott’s doing life.
Even if he’s nervous about it.
He’s nervous about a cat.
It’s stupid.
It’s so so so stupid.
He’s 44 years old, played professional hockey for over 20 years before recently retiring, came out by just saying “fuck it” and kissing Kip on the ice after winning the Stanley Cup, and the prospect of a cat is making him nervous. The cat isn’t even here yet! They’re just buying stuff for it, and he’s worried about things like, What if the cat hates me?
He’s just. He’s never really spent time around cats before. And his history with pets is extremely short in general.
He grew up with a dog until he was twelve years old and he woke up alone in the house one morning, just him and the dog until the police showed up and told him his parents were gone. He cried and hugged their dog, a mutt of a completely unknown composition they adopted from the local shelter in Rochester named T-Rex—Scott was a huge dinosaur kid and, if he’s being completely honest, still really likes them—who was his best friend in the whole world. He refused to speak to anyone but T-Rex. Then it wasn’t enough that his parents were dead and he’d never ever ever ever see them again and he was moving to a different state and leaving his school and everything else he’s ever known in Rochester, but T-Rex wasn’t allowed to come with him either. T-Rex ended up at the same shelter they got him from, and Scott doesn’t know where he ended up. He gets an ache deep in his chest, a twisting feeling in his stomach, and burning in his eyes if he thinks about T-Rex too long.
There were no pets at St. Thomas, but he spent a lot of time alone, as most of his interactions with other students were through hockey. He didn’t really have friends. So he was alone. There was a dumpster out back and sometimes stray cats would hang around the dumpster, searching for scraps of food. Scott liked the cats. He’d feed them in secret—or so he thought—until one day he went out to the dumpster at his usual time, and all the cats were gone. He never learned what happened to them, but it was a devastating blow to lose them all and he completely shut down again.
His next real interactions with a pet came with his first billet family, an older couple who never had any children. The husband, Mathieu, was a quiet, stern man, but his wife Marie was sweet and wanted nothing more than for Scott to feel welcome in their home. They had a very small dog named Princess, something with papers declaring it a purebred something or other, and it was so small it made Scott nervous he would somehow hurt it simply by existing in its vicinity. Marie picked up on Scott’s unease around Princess and assumed he was afraid of dogs. She did her best to act as a barrier between Princess and Scott during his time with them, so he never really spent much time with Princess.
And that’s the end of Scott’s history with pets.
Yes, there’s the “paws and pucks” calendar he did every year with the Admirals to benefit the local humane society, but whoever pairs the players and animals designated Scott a “dog guy” during his first season and never changed their mind, so Scott poses with a rescue dog available for adoption and watches the cats from afar.
It feels extremely stupid.
Scott is aware it, like many of the things that stress him out on a day-to-day basis, is extremely stupid and probably not worth the energy he’s spending on worrying. But his brain takes small things and blows them up into disasters.
So, Scott doesn’t know how to look at his extremely excited husband and say, “Hey, I’m not against getting a cat, but I don’t really know what to do with a cat or how to act around one, and I’m really nervous about it” without feeling like he’s somehow ruining everything forever.
He hopes his smile is convincing enough.
Scott knows the Humane Society of New York City does the best they can for these animals with the resources available to them—he tries not to judge them too harshly—but the shelter is a depressing environment, and it weighs on him as he reads animal profile after animal profile on cards clipped to the metal bars of kennels stating how each cat found its way to the shelter.
Found as stray. Owner surrender. Owner surrender. Found as stray. Owner passed away. Owner had housing difficulties. Behavioral issues – house soiling. Found as stray. Owner surrender. Owner surrender transferred from another facility. Found as stray.
He wonders what T-Rex’s card said. Did whoever adopted him next know what happened?
He shakes his head, tries to focus on the cats in front of him and Kip’s voice as he asks the shelter volunteer questions about the cats.
Scott decides to wander the cat area.
He doesn’t feel much of anything as he peers into kennels. Sure, they’re cute, but he’s heard of people looking at animals at the shelter and suddenly knowing one is theirs, and Scott isn’t getting that. He wonders if people really experience that feeling or if it’s just something they say later to try to explain why a particular animal caught their eye in the absence of any real explanations.
That is until he turns the final corner.
The bottom kennel on the righthand side.
A big tomcat. Orange. Big cheeks. Found as a stray. Feline immunodeficiency virus positive.
He looks right at Scott and Scott looks back.
“Oh,” he quietly says, feeling something in his chest shift. Yeah, he decides. It’s a real feeling. “Hi, buddy.”
The cat—Mango, his information card says—meows. He has a creaky meow like he hasn’t used his voice in some time.
Scott wants this animal to like him. He so desperately wants this animal to like him, and he slowly moves, careful not to startle Mango, until he’s sitting on the floor—and he doesn’t even think about how gross the floor is, though it will hit him hard later—next to the kennel. Ignoring the posted signs saying not to stick your fingers into the kennels, he carefully sticks a finger between the metal bars and waits.
“Hi Mango,” he whispers. This is just for Mango to hear. “You look like a good boy.”
Mango stares at his finger but doesn’t move for what feels like forever until he takes a slow step closer. And another one. And another one. Until he leans forward and sniffs Scott’s finger.
Scott holds his breath.
Satisfied with the finger lick, Mango slowly moves his head so he rubs the top of his head against Scott’s finger.
And then Mango purrs. He sounds like an old engine revving to life after a long period of disuse, and Scott feels the shifting in his chest again.
Yeah, this is his cat.
scotthunter_official • Follow
100K 
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scotthunter_official Welcome home Morris! Thank you @nyc_humanesociety for the great work you do. View all 225 comments
admiralsfan98 omg a cat!!!!
catlady morris is sooooo cute
mike.gordon stick to hockey
May 02, 2022
scotthunter_official • Follow
102K 300 scotthunter_official Champion napper View all 300 comments
sophiemiller awwww he’s so cute
istudybio Is he a rescue? I hope he’s not from a breeder.
lexig @istudybio he’s from nyc humane!
May 26, 2022
scotthunter_official • Follow
101K 289 scotthunter_official One of the best sights ever View all 289 comments
sandynixon lol is hunter becoming a cat dad
liamh do NOT pet that belly it’s a trap lol
admiralsfan2008 ewww a man owning a cat is gay
June 21, 2022
scotthunter_official • Follow
100K 275 scotthunter_official Not the only athlete in the household anymore View all 275 comments
sandynixon oh he’s absolutely become a cat dad lmao
liamh omw over to pet him
admiralsfan2008 gayyyyy
July 17, 2022
scotthunter_official • Follow
110K 330 scotthunter_official Why do we even bother getting Morris toys when the box is his favorite part? View all 330 comments
catlady ikr?
lily.myers omg my guy looooves boxes too
lexig awe he’s orange
August 5, 2022
scotthunter_official • Follow
120K 400 scotthunter_official Merry Christmas! View all 400 comments
elena.rygg Merry Christmas Scott, Kip, and most importantly my nephew Morris!
catlady uh oh he looks like trouble
lexig say goodbye to your tree with an orange around lol
December 24, 2022
Scott’s sitting on the couch with a book in hand but not reading, Morris in his usual spot on his lap, eyes closed, purring. “I was unsure,” he begins. “At first. About a cat. I was unsure.”
Kip shrugs, places the folded-up blanket he was using earlier back on the arm of the couch where it belongs. “I could tell.”
Scott blinks. “You could tell?”
“Babe.” Kip turns to look at him. “You’re not that sneaky. You looked like you were going to throw up anytime we talked about a cat.”
“Oh.”
“And it’s okay to be nervous about things,” Kip adds, sitting next to Scott and hoping it doesn’t disturb Morris. “Getting a cat’s a big deal, especially if you’ve never had one before.” He takes hold of one of Scott’s hands, presses a light kiss against his knuckles. “Besides, I think it turned out okay.”
“Yeah,” Scott admits with a soft, sappy smile on his face. He would gladly sit on the couch with Morris on his lap and Kip holding his hand forever. This is all he needs. “It turned out okay.”