Page 12 of A Christmas Spark
She definitely hadn’t expected to have a pet. But what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t just take the small thing to a shelter. The idea of that, especially so close to Christmas, made her far too sad. The kitten just wanted a home and love, after all, and it wasn’t like she didn’t have the space. She didn’t have any other pets or kids to cause issues. And cats were easy, she thought to herself. Supposedly, anyway. They minded their own business for the most part and took care of themselves, needing just a little food and water and a clean comfy place to sleep and do their business. She’d always heard they were the most low-maintenance of pets, right after fish.
“I’m sure it’ll be no trouble at all,” Mabel said, leaning down to pet the kitten as it abandoned the feathers and dove face-first into the dish of tuna that she’d set out. “You need a name though, little one. Something festive, maybe. Noel? Jingle? Berry?” She scratched the kitten behind the ears. “It’ll come to me, I’m sure of it.”
The kitten yawned, revealing a tiny pink tongue and small sharp teeth, and Mable laughed, standing with a creak of her knees. “I’m sure it’s exhausting, being so small and energetic,” she said. “You eat the tuna, and drink your water, and I’ll come check on you when I’m done finishing up dinner. How’s that?”
A small purr was her answer. Satisfied, Mabel set the now-full kitten on the pillow, taking the tuna dish away to wash, and headed back to the kitchen. The smell of the pot roast was mouthwatering, and she decided to open a bottle of merlot that she’d been saving. A nice glass of wine with dinner sounded perfect, and when she peeked out the window, she saw that snow was beginning to lightly fall.
Wonderful.She smiled, getting a fresh-baked loaf of bread out of the breadbox that she’d bought at the local bakery yesterday. Hot roast and vegetables, fresh bread with local butter and honey, and a glass of wine while she watched the snow fall from her little nook—she couldn’t wait. It was the perfect, relaxing end to a busy day.
Twenty minutes later, she had it all plated up, and was just about to carry her plate and glass to the table when she felt something soft winding around her ankles. She glanced down to see the kitten rubbing against her calf, circling around her feet as it looked up at her and let out another plaintivemraow.
“You had your dinner,” Mabel said pointedly. “Maybe I’ll give you a saucer of milk for dessert, but it’smydinnertime now, you little rascal. Go play with your new toys.” She reached down, giving the kitten a scratch behind the ears, before carrying her plate and glass to the table.
The snowfall had started to intensify, and she could tell that there would be at least a couple of inches come morning. She took a bite of the pot roast, letting out a happy sigh at the rich, savory, melt-in-your-mouth flavor, and was just about to reach for her wine glass when the kitten let out another yowl.
Mabel looked down at the kitten, who was staring at her with wide, plaintive eyes that belonged in a tv commercial paired with sad music. “You don’t need any pot roast,” she said reprovingly, but she’d no sooner tried to take another bite than the kitten let out a yowl that would’ve made her think there was a wounded animal outside if she hadn’t known better.
“Oh, fine,” she huffed, getting up to go back to the slow cooker. She fished out a chunk of pot roast, putting it on a saucer, and set it down next to the table as she slid back into her seat. She reached for her wine glass, glancing down to see that the kitten was now happily nibbling away.
After dinner and dishes, Mabel yawned, realizing she was already more than ready to head upstairs to her bed and her book. She found the kitten lapping at the saucer of cream she’d given her next to the pillow, and she scooped the nearly empty saucer up, setting the kitten gently on the pillow. “It’s bedtime,” she said firmly, petting the small creature. “Stay nice and cozy down here, and I’ll have a special breakfast for you in the morning. How’s that?”
The kitten bumped her head into Mabel’s hand, and she smiled.
When she came back out to the living room after washing off the saucer, she saw the kitten making biscuits on the pillow, claws extended and a blissful expression on her face. It got up a moment later, turning in three circles, and then promptly curled into a perfect cinnamon roll of tabby kitten.
“Aww, you like your new special spot.” Mabel beamed, feeling a wave of maternal pride over this tiny kitten that she’d only had for a brief time. She couldn’t resist pulling out herphone and snapping a photo—she knew Vanessa would want to see it later. That gave her another burst of warm happiness: the idea that she had her granddaughter back in her life, a close family member that would enjoy things like getting impromptu photos of the kitten Mabel had rescued.
Giving the kitten one final glance, and sure that she appeared to be sleeping peacefully, Mabel headed upstairs to change and crawl into bed with a mug of tea and the new book that she’d bought a week ago. It was a cozy Christmas mystery, and she was excited to find out what would happen next. She only managed a few pages before setting it aside with her half-full mug of cooling tea, asleep before she knew it.
When she jolted awake a little while later, she saw from the clock next to her bed that it was just after midnight. At first, she couldn’t figure out what had disturbed her sleep. She wasn’t usually someone to wake in the middle of the night—she’d always slept well.
Then she heard it—a frantic skittering across her hardwood floors, followed by what sounded like the crinkling of paper.
She reached for the light switch in the dark, fumbling around and blinking as the light came on. When she looked down, she saw the source of the noise—the kitten, currently engaged in devastating warfare with a receipt in the middle of her bedroom floor.
“You’re supposed to be asleep too,” Mabel grumbled, rubbing her hands over her eyes as she looked at the kitten. The small creature froze, mouth full of damp paper, claws extended as she looked up at Mabel with absolutely no guilt whatsoever in her furry little face.
Mabel sighed, and started to get up—only for the kitten to take off like a shot out of the bedroom, the long receipt trailing after her as she bolted for the stairs.
“Oh, my goodness.” Mabel sleepily crawled out of bed, hurrying after the kitten. “You little rascal!” She followed the sound of shredding paper, gathering as many bits and pieces as she could before finally catching the tiny creature underneath the coffee table downstairs. There were bits of paper scattered everywhere like snow, and Mabel groaned as she went to find a broom.
“Good job,” she told the kitten dryly. “But some of us have work in the morning. We can’t play all hours of the day and night, okay?”
The kitten seemed to have no such compunctions about getting rest. Instead, she happily started to chase the broom as Mabel swept up the bits of receipt paper, making the task take easily twice as long. But she was so cute that Mabel just didn’t have the heart to swat her away as she cleaned up the mess.
She reached to grab one piece of paper that had slid just beneath the sofa, and the kitten pounced, tiny claws stabbing through the sleeve of her favorite pajamas—the red set with white bows all over.
“Ouch!” Mabel yelped, and the kitten jumped back. “Playtime’s over, little one,” she said reprovingly, scooping up the soft ball of squirming kitten and carrying it back to the pillow. “Bedtime,” she said firmly, plopping the kitten down and giving her a few quick pets. “This is where you sleep. Nice and comfy and warm.”
The kitten settled onto the pillow, blinking owlishly, and Mabel took that as surrender. She headed back up to her bedroom, closing the door almost all of the way. She started to close it entirely, but finally relented and left a small gap, just in case. She hated the idea that the kitten might actually need something in the middle of the night, and she wouldn’t hear.
Sliding back under her mound of quilts, Mabel was once again fast asleep in an instant.
The sound of fabric being shredded yanked Mabel from a cinnamon-scented dream about Christmas cookies and hot cocoa not thirty minutes later. She peered out of one eye to see the time—and then jolted up with both eyes open as the sound registered fully. It took her only a second to switch the light on and confirm her worst fears. The kitten had pushed its way into her bedroom once again, and was now happily sharpening her claws on Mabel’s reading chair next to the window.
Herantiquereading chair.
“Oh no!” Mabel yelped, getting out of bed faster than she’d known she could move in years. Old joints were nothing compared to the damage being done to her treasured chair, which she’d gotten from an estate sale years before and loved more than just about any other piece of furniture in her home. “Not my chair, you rascal!”
