Page 106 of Knocked Up

And Tessa Reeves put her hands over her face and laughed until she had to lean on the sink. Then she got up and took Willa out of my hands. Then she leaned down and kissed me while I was still on my knees, wet through, on the floor of her mother's bathroom.

"You're a lunatic," she said, against my mouth.

"The variable was the water."

"Shut up."

There is a grey cat in that house called Roy. He came in with the first litter in October. He fell asleep against my leg in an exam room before I knew anything about anything. I've quietly failed to let anybody adopt him out for nine months.

Nobody in that building has ever said a word about it to my face.

On the last Friday in June I came into the clinic at four with the paperwork.

"I want to adopt the cat."

Tessa did not look up from the computer. "Which cat?"

"You know which cat."

"I have forty animals in this building, Mr. Douglas, you'll have to be specific."

"Tessa."

"There is a process," she said, and now she looked up. She had a face on that I've only seen her use on people who want a puppy for a kid's birthday. "There is an application. There is a home check. There are two references, one of which cannot be a family member. There is an interview with the authorizing veterinarian."

"I live in the home."

"The home check is a formality. It is not optional."

She made me fill in all four pages. She made me write in the box marked why are you interested in this animal. She read it and made a small noise. She would not tell me what the noise was for.

She called Auggie for a reference. On speaker.

"Doctor Reeves! Is this about the cat?"

"It's about the cat."

"I've been waiting nine months for this phone call," Auggie said. "Yes to everything."

"Would you describe him as stable in the home?"

"No," Auggie said. "But in a good way."

The interview was on the couch at six o'clock, with the applicant on one end and the cat on the other and the authorizing veterinarian in the middle with a clipboard.

"Describe your daily routine."

"You know my daily routine."

"For the file."

"Four o'clock bottles. Runs. Seniors at six. Stevie in butter, Noodle in cheese, Dolly in bread." I looked at her. "Willa at four and again at seven. I'm at the rink from September. Home by eleven ten on a home night."

"And in the event of a change of circumstances…"

"There's no change of circumstances."

"In the event," Tessa said.