Sonny’s already at the bodega when Usnavi arrives—concerning, since 1.) Sonny hates being awake before 9 AM, and 2.) he really doesn’t remember giving him the keys. Still, he walks through the door, listens to the bell jingle, and walks up to the counter.
“Yo, Sonny, what are you even—what. Are you even doing.”
Sonny beams, finally looking away from the orange thing eating wet food on the counter. “I found a cat,” he says.
Usnavi raises his eyebrows. Like, wow, no way, not like I can see the cat with my own eyes or anything. Sarcasm’s not really his style, though. Instead he just goes: “Okay. Why?”
“… Why did I find a cat?”
“Man, you know what I mean.” He gestures at the animal. “I’m not letting a cat stay in the bodega.”
“Come on, please?” Sonny says—well, whines, really, since he lets that please go on way too long and lets his voice get way too high. “My dad’s not gonna let him stay with us and I know you’ve got a no pets thing on your lease and I don’t wanna get you kicked out or anything—”
“What about Graffiti Pete?” Usnavi asks.
Sonny frowns. “He doesn’t like cats.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like cats either, so—”
“Oh my god.” Sonny picks the cat up, ignoring its disgruntled mrow of protest, and holds it up under its armpits, its stomach out toward Usnavi. “I dare you to look Garfield in the eye and tell him you don’t like him.”
Usnavi is, admittedly, a little afraid to look a cat in the eyes. He opts to snort and roll his own. “Garfield? Really?”
“Either that or Skimbleshanks,” Sonny says with a grin.
“You really gotta stop watching Cats, man.”
“I will never stop watching Cats.”
“It’s not even the good Cats!”
“Arguable.”
“It’s not.”
Sonny wiggles the cat a bit, its lower body swinging. “Come on, please?” he says—whines—again, and he actually pulls his mouth into a pout. “Please, Usnavi? Please?”
“Jesus.” Usnavi sighs, but he’s never been able to be mean to Sonny. Even if he deserves it. “He’s your responsibility. Okay?”
Sonny’s smile splits his entire face. “Really?!”
“And he stays in the bodega,” Usnavi says. “Got it?”
“Definitely. Absolutely,” Sonny replies. “Stays in the bodega. For sure.”
That weekend, Usnavi finds himself sitting between Sonny and Vanessa on his couch, Skimblefield curled up in Sonny’s lap, and watching Tom Hooper's Cats for maybe the twentieth time.