Prologue
As a rule, Sebastian endured Christmas with
the good grace for which the best cats were known. He never
indulged in merrymaking. His self-defined role as elder statesman
precluded such a loss of dignity. Instead he held himself aloof and
watched with great indulgence as his humans did the strangest
things.
Once a year, around the first snowstorm, they
opened the front doors wide and dragged in a big pine tree from
outside. The same people who scolded him when he came in with muddy
paws ignored bugs and dirt and sap and set the tree right smack in
the middle of the living room carpet. They hung round, shiny
objects from the branches and strung twinkling lights from top to
bottom. Then, when that was all done, they placed boxes tied up
with bows underneath the lowest branches.
Everyone who came to visit gathered around
the tree to sing songs and drink something called eggnog and to
give each other presents that weren't half as much fun as catnip or
a ball of yarn. All things considered, it was a most puzzling time
of the year.
At Christmastime a cat had to learn how to
cope or he'd find himself with a Santa Claus hat on his head and a
ribbon around his neck, posing for some stupid holiday card picture
that would embarrass him for the rest of his days. The dog and the
parrot were perfectly happy to make fools of themselves and wear
all manner of ridiculous outfits to make their humans laugh, but
not Sebastian. The first person who tried to make him wear snow
boots or a bow around his neck would find himself picking kitty
litter out of his teeth for a year.
Sebastian did not suffer fools gladly.
Christmas was not his favorite time of year. He preferred
Thanksgiving, thank you very much, with that big juicy roasted bird
on the table and lots of leftovers. When Christmas got too loud and
confusing, he retreated to his hiding place in the Girl's room
where a cat in his golden years could sleep in peace and quiet
until things got back to normal again.
This year, however, something was wrong.
There was no tree, no beribboned packages, no friends and relatives
gathered around singing songs to torment the ears of innocent cats.
The Boy and Girl moped around in their rooms and not even talk of
Santa Claus could make them smile. And what worried Sebastian most
was that their parents weren't smiling either.
When it all began, the Man slept downstairs
on the sofa while she had the big bed all to herself. Sebastian,
with the sensibilities of a diplomat, had tried to divide his
attentions between the two of them but his twelve-year-old legs
weren't what they used to be. The stairs took their toll on his
rickety knees and made him wheeze like a bulldog, so most of the
time he slept on the landing so he could be near them both.
Finally the time came when he didn't have to
do that any longer, because the Man packed his bags and moved to
something called a hotel.
The dog refused to believe anything was
wrong. The parrot thought Sebastian was making a mountain out of a
molehill, but Sebastian knew in his ancient bones that change was
in the wind. He had been around since the beginning and he knew how
it used to be when they were happy. There had been so much laughter
in the little cottage that he couldn't hear himself purr. Now he
couldn't remember the last time he'd even seen them smile.
He found himself dreaming about the little
cottage where he'd first lived with them and how happy they'd been.
It was as if the cottage itself were somehow calling him back home.
The Woman used to sing while she cooked dinner and sometimes the
Man came into the kitchen and drew her into his arms and they
danced around the floor. Sebastian would even get into the act.
He'd wind his way between their ankles until, laughing, they would
bend down and stroke his fur just the way he liked it. Ah, those
were the days....
He'd been young then and fast. A better
mouser never lived than Sebastian in his prime. He'd bring his
treasures home
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