Nic Tatano - The Lost Cats and Lonely Hearts Club - A heartwarming, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy - not just for cat lovers!

“So why didn’t he ask me out?”

“He couldn’t. Yet.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He just let you out of a ticket and it would look like he traded a date with you for that. Either that or he probably figured a girl on national television already has someone.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“But trust me, he will. I saw that look he had.”

“He doesn’t have my phone number.”

“He knows where you live, sweetie. And he’s a cop, he could easily look it up.”

“True.”

“And you have his number. If I were you, I’d start lining up those jars you can’t open.”

I’ve just about made it through my first week at work but I’ve been doing something I’ve never done during my entire career.

Watching the clock.

Generally reporters don’t have time to do that since our days are so busy, but now I look forward to getting home and seeing my furry friends.

It’s four-thirty and thankfully I don’t have a live shot tonight so I’ll be home at a decent hour unless some breaking news keeps me here. Politicians are famous for their Friday afternoon document dumps, so I’m hoping that isn’t the case today. Besides, I’m clandestinely working on finding the smoking gun on a United States Senator who the CEO refers to as “Madison’s white whale.” I keep my research under the radar since I have been told in no uncertain terms to back off. I’ve always wondered if the Senator has photos of the CEO naked with a goat because everyone in the news business knows the guy is the poster child for dirty politicians. But I’m handcuffed since corporate won’t let me expend the time or newsroom resources digging up dirt on the guy. The other reason is that countless reporters have tried to go full Ahab on the guy over the years and come up empty. The Senator is really smart and has the unlimited resources to cover his tracks.

Or make them go away. Which is the scary part.

When I see my boss heading in my direction, I quickly shove my notes in a drawer and smile at him.

Barry Post, my short, bald forty year old News Director, arrives at my desk and leans his bulky frame on the edge. “Your story in the can already?”

Dammit, a document dump. He needs a reporter to go out on something. “Yeah. Why?”

He’s wearing a bit of a smile. “Need to run something by you in my office.” He cocks his head in that direction and gets up, so I follow him. Barry closes the door behind me as I take a seat in front of his desk. “I just got some bad news.”

“What, you sick or something?”

“No, I’m fine. It’s Fred.”

Our senior political reporter who covers the President’s re-election campaign. “What happened?”

“He fell down the stairs getting off Air Force One and broke his ankle. Compound fracture. You know, the kind where the bone sticks through—”

“Yeah, I get it. Ugh.” My face tightens as I try not to picture the accident. “Poor guy.”

“Anyway, he’ll be laid up for several months, and I need someone to fill in for him. Madison, I know this has always been your dream assignment.”

My eyes widen as I can’t help but smile. “Seriously? You want me to—”

“Yeah. Cover the President’s campaign till Fred’s back on his feet. Of course that means being on the road for weeks at a time.”

Suddenly it hits me.

The kittens.

My face drops a bit and he notices. “I thought you’d be doing cartwheels, Madison.”

“I, uh … well, I have some personal obligations. I would, uh, have to make some arrangements.”

“Something with your family? Everyone okay?”

Hell, I can’t tell the guy I might blow off the plum assignment of a career to take care of a bunch of kittens. “Yeah, it’s … well, it’s personal.”

“I hope you’re okay, Madison.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Listen, Barry, can I let you know on Monday?”

“Sure. But I can’t wait any longer. I need a yes or no first thing Monday morning, and if it’s a no I have to give the assignment to Jennifer.”

He just made the decision even harder.

It’s Friday night and I’m waiting for Kelly so I can go out and have a drink with my friends.

I need their input on this very difficult decision I have to make. Actually, the most difficult career decision I’ve ever made.

The doorbell rings as I’m staring at the ball of fur asleep in the box. When I get up and open the door I don’t find my cat sitter, but my next door neighbor the veterinarian. “Hi Jeff, I didn’t know you were back. How was your vacation?”

“Wonderful. How was the Hamptons? I hear it’s spectacular.”

“Didn’t go. Long story. I don’t wanna tell it and trust me, you don’t wanna hear it.”

“Oh. Anyway, I just got back and I thought I’d see where the kittens ended up. So, since you didn’t take them with you on your trip did you find a shelter to take them?”

“Nope. They’re still here. I never bothered to look for a shelter. C’mon in and check ‘em out.”

He moves inside, crouches down next to the box and starts to examine the kittens. “They look very well fed. And clean. You’re doing a really good job with them. I’m impressed. If you ever want a job as my assistant, let me know.”

“I cannot take all the credit. Rory runs kitten day care for me while I’m at work.”

“Now that’s a true friend.” He reaches into the box and pulls out a kitten. “Let me give them a quick check. This one looks good.” He picks up each one and nods. “They look fine, Madison. Bring ‘em by the clinic next week and I’ll give them a thorough exam. No charge.”

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

He stands up and smiles. “I must say, I never expected this from you.”

“I never expected this from me either. But I got attached to them really quick.”

“And they can get attached to you. When you get kittens that young, they can imprint on you.”

“Huh?”

“Imprinting. That means they think you’re their mother.”

I stir my drink, not really looking at it but deep in thought.

Presidential campaign.

Leaving kittens who think I’m their mother. Would it break their little hearts?

Don’t answer that.

“Earth to Madison …”

I look up and see my three friends staring at me. “I’m sorry. I’ve never been in a position where I have absolutely no idea what to do. It’s the assignment every reporter dreams about, and it should be a no-brainer. But … damn, I just don’t know.”

Rory reaches over and pats my hand. “Whatever you decide, we’ll support you. You know that.”

A.J. sips her drink. “You leanin’ one way or the other?”

“It changes every five minutes. Of course it doesn’t help that if I turn it down the queen bitch of the newsroom will get the assignment. And she would find a way to rub it in my face every day till the election.”

“Don’t even take that into consideration,” says Tish. “I know you, and I know you want someone else to make this decision for you. That ain’t happenin’. This one you’ve got to figure out for yourself.”

“I know. At least I’ve got till Monday morning. Dammit! Why does this have to happen now?”