The Year the Cat Saved Christmas - a novella by Barbara Bretton Page A
Authors: Barbara Bretton
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proudly and place them on the front porch but she
never seemed to appreciate them the way Sebastian thought she
should. As far as Sebastian was concerned, it didn't get much
better than dead mouse.
Sebastian didn't do much mousing anymore and
his birding days were a thing of the past. He hadn't gone exploring
in longer than he could remember, content instead to stay close to
home in case he was needed. Sometimes he thought he caught the
mourning doves laughing at him as he lay on the back steps and
sunned himself. He pretended he didn't notice them waddling by, but
he did. It was a sad day when a proud cat like Sebastian couldn't
catch a mourning dove but time marched on and, like it or not,
there wasn't anything he could do about it.
Not long ago a sign appeared in the front
yard and every day strange people marched through the house.
Sebastian refused to acknowledge their presence as they peeked in
closets and peered under the beds. He didn't know exactly what was
going on but he knew enough to understand his life was about to
change.
He hadn't seen his people together in a long
time. The Man hadn't been around much since the sign appeared. The
other day Sebastian had heard his voice through the answering
machine and he'd winced as the dog danced about with delight. Poor
Charlie just didn't understand the difference between a machine and
the real thing. For a minute Sebastian had wished he didn't either.
He wanted to believe that his people would be together again and
things would be the way they used to, but he was starting to
suspect it never would.
When the big long truck pulled into the
driveway that morning, Sebastian knew it was all over. He sat in
the foyer and watched with growing dismay as the televisions
vanished into the truck, along with the piano and dishes and even
the paintings on the walls.
A snowy boot nudged his flank. "Move,
fatso."
Sebastian aimed a malevolent look in the
human’s direction but he didn't budge an inch. It was his house.
Let old Snow Boots move.
"Hey, tubs." The brown boot nudged a little
harder. "I got a twelve foot couch to move. Get your furry ass out
of my way."
Sebastian considered turning the human's
pants into confetti but thought better of it. Instead he leaped
onto the sofa with a surprising display of agility and curled up in
the corner as if he hadn't a care in the world. He was having
trouble catching his breath but he refused to let on.
"Hey, lady!" the human bellowed. "Do
something about this cat, will you?"
"Sebastian!" She appeared in the doorway.
"Scat! Stay out of the moving man's way."
Sebastian arched his back and hissed. Scat?
Since when did she tell him to scat? She'd never embarrassed him in
front of strangers before and he didn't like it one bit.
"Bad cat!" Her voice shook as if she'd been
crying. "Don't you ever do anything right?"
Her words cut him to the quick. He jumped
down from the sofa, landing hard on his paws. Pain shot up his legs
and along his back. He was getting too old for gymnastics. He
waited for her to come see if he'd hurt himself but she turned away
as if she'd forgotten he was even there. That hurt most of all.
"You gonna stand there all day, fatso?" the
human asked, aiming that boot in Sebastian's direction one more
time. "You heard what the lady said. Now scat!"
Sebastian couldn't help himself. There was
only so much a cat could take before he defended his honor. With
one graceful swing of his paw, he turned the moron's right pants
leg into a windsock and then he marched out the front door, tail
held high. Maybe next time the human would think twice before
insulting an innocent feline who was just minding his own
business.
He strutted out onto the porch and surveyed
his domain.
Snow was everywhere he looked: on the porch,
the driveway, all over the yard. Sebastian's whiskers quivered with
distaste. He hated snow. It was cold and wet and reminded him of
baths and other indignities. Maybe if he looked pathetic enough,
she would
never seemed to appreciate them the way Sebastian thought she
should. As far as Sebastian was concerned, it didn't get much
better than dead mouse.
Sebastian didn't do much mousing anymore and
his birding days were a thing of the past. He hadn't gone exploring
in longer than he could remember, content instead to stay close to
home in case he was needed. Sometimes he thought he caught the
mourning doves laughing at him as he lay on the back steps and
sunned himself. He pretended he didn't notice them waddling by, but
he did. It was a sad day when a proud cat like Sebastian couldn't
catch a mourning dove but time marched on and, like it or not,
there wasn't anything he could do about it.
Not long ago a sign appeared in the front
yard and every day strange people marched through the house.
Sebastian refused to acknowledge their presence as they peeked in
closets and peered under the beds. He didn't know exactly what was
going on but he knew enough to understand his life was about to
change.
He hadn't seen his people together in a long
time. The Man hadn't been around much since the sign appeared. The
other day Sebastian had heard his voice through the answering
machine and he'd winced as the dog danced about with delight. Poor
Charlie just didn't understand the difference between a machine and
the real thing. For a minute Sebastian had wished he didn't either.
He wanted to believe that his people would be together again and
things would be the way they used to, but he was starting to
suspect it never would.
When the big long truck pulled into the
driveway that morning, Sebastian knew it was all over. He sat in
the foyer and watched with growing dismay as the televisions
vanished into the truck, along with the piano and dishes and even
the paintings on the walls.
A snowy boot nudged his flank. "Move,
fatso."
Sebastian aimed a malevolent look in the
human’s direction but he didn't budge an inch. It was his house.
Let old Snow Boots move.
"Hey, tubs." The brown boot nudged a little
harder. "I got a twelve foot couch to move. Get your furry ass out
of my way."
Sebastian considered turning the human's
pants into confetti but thought better of it. Instead he leaped
onto the sofa with a surprising display of agility and curled up in
the corner as if he hadn't a care in the world. He was having
trouble catching his breath but he refused to let on.
"Hey, lady!" the human bellowed. "Do
something about this cat, will you?"
"Sebastian!" She appeared in the doorway.
"Scat! Stay out of the moving man's way."
Sebastian arched his back and hissed. Scat?
Since when did she tell him to scat? She'd never embarrassed him in
front of strangers before and he didn't like it one bit.
"Bad cat!" Her voice shook as if she'd been
crying. "Don't you ever do anything right?"
Her words cut him to the quick. He jumped
down from the sofa, landing hard on his paws. Pain shot up his legs
and along his back. He was getting too old for gymnastics. He
waited for her to come see if he'd hurt himself but she turned away
as if she'd forgotten he was even there. That hurt most of all.
"You gonna stand there all day, fatso?" the
human asked, aiming that boot in Sebastian's direction one more
time. "You heard what the lady said. Now scat!"
Sebastian couldn't help himself. There was
only so much a cat could take before he defended his honor. With
one graceful swing of his paw, he turned the moron's right pants
leg into a windsock and then he marched out the front door, tail
held high. Maybe next time the human would think twice before
insulting an innocent feline who was just minding his own
business.
He strutted out onto the porch and surveyed
his domain.
Snow was everywhere he looked: on the porch,
the driveway, all over the yard. Sebastian's whiskers quivered with
distaste. He hated snow. It was cold and wet and reminded him of
baths and other indignities. Maybe if he looked pathetic enough,
she would
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