Friday, December 13

 Friday, 13th!  Should I be worried?  Nah!

When Marilyn came home from one of her Christmas parties on Tuesday, she was carrying a large box; she had won the Christmas hamper!  The ladies had all donated something, based on the theme of 'green' and Marilyn had the winning ticket.  It was a wonderful array but what caught my eye was a little doll-like figure dressed like a Christmas elf.  Jamie explained it was an 'elf on a shelf' and there was a whole industry devoted to it.

Without going into too much detail, the story is about an elf sent by Santa to keep track of who is being naughty or nice.  Apparently, if you have one in the house you have to keep moving it from one place to another.  Some people play tricks on each other by hiding the elf in unusual places or by setting the elf up in compromising situations.  If you check Google you can find ideas of how to enhance your life by using an elf on the shelf.

Marilyn tucked it into a green Chinese cup we have on the TV stand to get it out of the way, and it stayed there for a couple of days. I noticed this morning that it's disappeared.  I hope I'm not going to be expected to go looking for it.  I'm too old for all this nonsense.  Hopefully, it's just been shoved into a drawer until we happen to have a small visitor who might like it.

Here's a Christmas story based on a real cat I used to know.

A CHRISTMAS CAT                                                                        DECEMBER 2, 2021

Since the children have grown up and left home, Christmas is not such a big deal in our house. Even when the children were bringing some excitement into Christmas Day, our presents to each other would be insignificant: the latest blockbuster novel for me and an inconsequential piece of jewellery for my wife.  Now that we’re on our own, we’ve stopped buying presents for each other and the usual highlight of the day is watching a DVD of Love Actually.

Sometimes, I feel a little guilty that I don’t make more of an effort but the feeling passes and I go back to how it was before: waiting for my wife to take the lead and tell me what’s expected of me at this significant part of the year.

Last year, when we were all feeling in need of a lift, I surprised her by asking what she would like me to get her for Christmas. Her reply shocked me; she said, “I would like you to get me a cat,” 

I’m sure my mouth fell open.  It had never entered my head that she would ask for such a thing.  In fact, I was convinced she would say what she always said in such situations.  “I don’t want anything.  I have enough jewellery and we don’t want any more stuff cluttering up the house.”

“A cat?” I asked. “What do you want with a cat?”

“I’ve always wanted a cat, since I was a little girl,” she said, “And it will be something for mee to cuddle when I’m upset.”

I sensed the implied criticism there but didn’t react. I had thought it was my job to cuddle her when she was upset but I was aware enough not to say anything.  Putting my bruised ego aside, I analysed the situation.  She had asked for a cat and I felt that I had no alternative but to provide one.  I needed a plan of action: get more information, if possible; research how one acquires a cat; are there unforeseen issues I need to consider; put my plan into action.

“Um, what sort of cat did you have in mind?” I asked.  “What colour, for example?”

“I don’t want a kitten and I don’t want a fluffy one that will leave hair all over the furniture,” was her reply.

I rang my friend, Peter, who seemed to be knowledgeable about most things and asked where I could get a cat in time for Christmas. He hummed a little bit and suggested I not go to a pet shop.  “They only deal in kittens,” he said, with authority.  “I would try Launceston Buy, Swap and Sell on Facebook.  They have a special section for pets.”

I’ve never been very sure about Facebook but, with Peter’s help, I navigated the site and found someone in Legana with a mature cat for sale. ‘Not good with children,’ it said but that wouldn’t be a problem.  It was a beautiful Siamese, three years old, called Cappucino because of its colour.  They were having to re-home it because they were going away in their caravan for a year.  I handed over the $50 they asked for, took the basket they threw in with the deal and left the cat with Peter for safe-keeping until Christmas.

I decided a red ribbon around its neck would be a nice touch but doing that was harder than it looked.  A cat’s claws are sharp and Chino, as I had started to call her, was determined not to be co-operative.  It would have to be handed over un-adorned but it’s the thought that counts.

When Christmas morning came around, my wife was enchanted with the beautiful creature that I presented to her.  Chino was a little shy and didn’t immediately allow herself to be cuddled but I was confident that, as the weeks passed, she would become more accustomed to us and allow us to get closer to her.

It’s been a month now and, at last, I can pat her gently without feeling her claws dig into the back of my hand.  She’s stopped lashing out and lacerating my ankles when I pass, and I’ve even heard a little purr from time to time. My wife has stopped sobbing each time she looks at the cat and I’m still hopeful that, maybe, by next Christmas, Chino will allow herself to be cuddled.

And, if all else fails, I can always re-advertise her on Facebook.