the cat who came for Christmas

Two weeks before Christmas, and I was not feeling the cheer.  In fact, every evening was just an epic homework battle punctuated by sibling death-matches and family dominio-meltdowns.  So when I heard the sound of a crying cat after school one afternoon, I decided we should follow it, if just to stall the inevitable.

We found him quickly, in the backyard of the neighbor across the street.  Looking through the fence slats we could see he was still a kitten; a preteen kitten.  Aaawww… Fred got a new pet!  Great!  Now let’s go fight about homework.

The next morning Rob told us he had had a visit from a grey kitten late the night before as he arrived home from rehearsal.  That day I saw the cat again, chasing the chickens in their run and trying to eat their food.  So we weren’t surprised when he showed up on our back porch as we were attempting North Pole Beauty Salon after school.  Mud masks and pedicures pale in comparison to a kitten. I had a feeling I knew where this was heading, and tried everything I could to steer in the other direction.

We took the cat across the street and knocked on Fred’s door.  Nope, the it wasn’t his, and, in fact, certain household members were deathly afraid of felines.  (So please take that thing away.)  We tried to bring him back, but a passing car spooked him and he bolted.  Ah well, I thought.  He’ll find his way to his real home.  He is not feral.  It’s obvious by the way he sits in any lap, plays with soft paws,  and allows the kids to carry him around like a rag doll.

Of course he showed up on our porch the next day.  By then, Rob and the kids were completely smitten.  But Rob tried valiantly to contain his enthusiasm.  After all, there are a lot of reasons getting another cat would be a bad idea, not the least of which is that I’m allergic.  And the whole thing about our last cat peeing on every surface of our house.  And the chicken-chasing.  I felt I might no longer be a friend to the felines.  So forget it.

But late Friday night, Rob reminded me of something.  “You know, Violet has had a kitten on her wish list for at least two years.  Maybe three.  And then a kitten shows up on our doorstep two weeks before Christmas.  I’m really starting think she willed this cat into existence.”

And then… I believed it.

Of course she did.  Violet has always been an unstoppable force.  For her, gravity is not real, but magic is.  She knew we would have never decided to get her a kitten, so she took matters into her own hands.  Done.

After that, it was only the formality of proving this kitten did not already have owners (checking for a microchip and on Craigslist).  We knew he was ours already; Violet had imagined him up and brought him here on a Tuesday before Christmas.

So that’s his name.  Tuesday.  Welcome to the family.*


*you’re not allowed in my room 


3 responses to “the cat who came for Christmas”

  1. Mom

    Love it!! I believe too!

  2. Rebecca

    Welcome Tuesday. And mom, well told – you’ve got some storytelling chops, lady.

  3. pets

    […]  Tuesday the half-wild cat who adopted us 2 years ago spends 95% of his time outside, sleeping and killing, killing and sleeping.  Then he comes into […]

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