as you walked down the street to the victors village you saw this poor little cat. immediately it was scooped up against your chest, fur stroked. you walked into the house. haymitch was never a animal person, well that’s not true, after he was attacked by his old cat that all changed.

anyone with eyes knows haymitch loves you, make than life itself. but stray cats that are matted, sick, gross and stinky. he draws the line. He puts a good three feet between the two of you when he sees the cat in your arms. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tries to keep her temper in check. “Sweetheart, that… thing is not staying in the house.”

your protest and squeal, crying slightly. you had to put him outside. everyday you brought him food. one night the weather was way to cold, blizzard weather. you couldn’t find the cat, searching. you felt sick, running back into the house and doing the first thing you thought of. “H?!”

You can hear Haymitch hiss in pain and curse underneath his breath from inside the bathroom. Your brows furrow and you follow the noise, noticing the high-pitched mewl that comes from behind the door. You breathe out a sigh of relief and push open the door, only to become even more puzzled..

Haymitch’s hunched over the bath, holding the kitty with one hand and using a jug to pour water over him with the other. 

“Are you drowning him?!” you squeal, rushing to his side. Haymitch laughs at that.