"Excuse me, uh," what is the correct address here, Ma'am or Miss or some weird Latin thing - "uh, can I take out the colorpoint cat?"

"Yeah, I can get him out for you if you really want," she sighs, rolling down her sleeves.  "And it's Ivy, if you need something to call me by; what's your name?  Or is it just Mr. Some Cats Are People, was that a nametag."

"...ah. I'm Cam. It was not a nametag."

"Yeah, normally they stick on your shirt instead of you having to hold them up for people to look at, silly me.  Or was that cat in particular not a people; I hear only some are."

"That one was, but he was lying about being able to read."

"What are you saying?"

"She didn't know any cats were people! Also she's gonna take you out of your cage."

"I do not like my cage."

"What's he saying."

"He wanted to know what we were saying and I told him and he says he doesn't like his cage."

"Understandable, honestly.  Don't suppose you could ask him not to try and scratch me."

"Sure. She'd like you not to scratch her, can you do that?"

"Well, she could let me jump out by myself."

"He would like to jump out by himself, he says."

"Yeah, okay."  She opens the door to the colorpoint's cage and then the one to a small room with a large interior window, a few chairs, and blankets and pet toys strewn on the floor.

He leaps out and does not scratch her. He trots right up to Cam and rubs against his leg. "I think it is very commendable of you to talk," he remarks.

"Wow, he really likes you.  Uh, you can take pretty much as long as you want in here unless somebody else comes in or you hit on closing time, and honestly maybe even then because I sure do have some questions and that gets you some leeway."

"Thanks!"

He sits down and the colorpoint cat leaps into his lap and purrs.

Ivy shuts the door and busies herself with cleaning on the other side of the window.

Cam hangs out with the cat for a while - the cat does not presently have a name he likes and accepts the suggestion of "Cricket", which is easily translatable into cat.

"Can I take this one with me?" he asks Ivy. Cricket is draped over his shoulder.

"I'd be glad if you did, to be honest.  Did you have like a pamphlet about this whole thing or do I have to come up with specific questions."

"I don't have a pamphlet. The short version is that I'm a magical being from another universe with magical language acquisition abilities and today they gave me cat language, which was very startling for me as I'm sure it is for you, but on inspection of the shelter population only some and possibly only a very small number of cats are people, which at least reduces the odds I need to worry about other animals also being people."

"Huh.  I didn't guess the magical being part but I'm not actually very surprised about the cats - everyone who works here is like, 'oh, that's just how cats are' when they meow in really clear conversational patterns or whatever, but it really really isn't."

"I can point out the ones who talked to me and which ones they said don't talk, though that won't divvy up anybody who was asleep and not remarked on -" Point point point.

"Thanks.  I . . . don't really know what I should do about this except, uh, keep treating them as well as I'm able to given resource constraints?  And I guess lie on some parts of your adoption form for you if you're from another universe - do you have a place to take this cat to and supplies and stuff; I am gonna have to put my foot down on that one even if I would fudge everything else - "