The Christmas Cat

 

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 me to cuddle when I’m feeling upset.”

 

I sensed the implicit criticism there but didn’t react.  I 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 their 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, 3 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 safekeeping 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 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.