Page 13 of A Christmas Spark
The kitten looked up, one set of claws still embedded in the upholstery. This time, Mabel thought she detected a trace of guilt in those eyes.
She lunged for the kitten, but it leapt from the chair with surprising speed, darting under the bed. Mabel groaned as the kitten let out a plaintive yowl, slowly getting down onto the rug to peek under the bed skirt. Her knees and back complained simultaneously.
“Come on out,” Mabel encouraged. “I’m not mad, but you can’t destroy my favorite chair, okay? I’ll buy you a scratching post tomorrow, how about that? Is that a deal?” She cooed at the kitten, who responded by retreating further under the bed.
Mabel sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. She had work in the morning. “Fine,” she said, waving a hand. “Stay there.But please go to sleep,” she begged. “And stop destroying things, okay?”
The kitten curled up close to the wall, and Mabel assumed they’d reached a truce. But no sooner had she crawled back into bed and drifted off than a soft thud from her dresser jolted her back to consciousness.
Cracking one eye open, she saw the kitten perched on her dresser, now investigating her perfume bottles. The kitten was sitting on its haunches, batting at them with curious paws.
“No, no, no!” Mabel exclaimed, throwing back the covers again. “Those are breakable!”
The kitten looked at her, then pushed a small bottle of vanilla and rose perfume closer to the edge of the dresser. Deliberately, Mabel thought. It definitely seemed deliberate.
“Don’t you dare,” Mabel warned, inching slowly toward the dresser. She was sure that she saw a defiant gleam in the tiny kitten’s eyes.
The kitten’s paw hovered near the bottle.
“I will put you back in the bird feeder where I found you,” Mabel threatened, knowing full well she’d do no such thing.
The kitten looked at her, seeming to consider, and then pulled her paw back and began lazily licking it, as if she’d never been on the verge of destroying what was a rare splurge for Mabel. She’d bought that perfume on a whim, and hardly ever had occasion to wear it, but it was special all the same.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Mabel told the kitten, getting up to move the perfumes to a higher shelf where she wasfairlysure there weren’t any ledges for the kitten to jump up there from. The kitten ignored her entirely, now grooming the other paw.
Sighing, Mabel scooped the kitten up and carried it back downstairs, firmly closing her bedroom door on the way back up. She’d no sooner crawled back into bed than she heard the patter of paws on the stairs, and then those same paws batting atthe bottom of her bedroom door. It went on for a few minutes, and then she heard the kitten going back downstairs, seemingly in retreat.
“Victory,” Mabel murmured, glancing at her clock. It was after one-thirty in the morning now, but if she fell asleep without any further interruptions, she might still not betootired in the morning.
It was nearly two a.m. when she was woken again, this time by what sounded like a herd of hippos racing across the floor downstairs. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. How was it possible for something that weighed as much as a small stuffed animal to be so loud?
Tucking her head under her pillow, she tried to ignore it. She needed her sleep. But the stampeding sound continued, followed by what sounded like the clanking of Christmas ornaments a few minutes later.
Mabel groaned for the umpteenth time that night. The kitten was likely making the Christmas tree her target now, and the thought of waking up to find the tree knocked over and her collection of ornaments destroyed, or some other holiday carnage in the morning, propelled Mabel out of bed.
She’d no sooner started to get up than the sound stopped. Mabel paused, listening. The silence was so complete that it was concerning; she remembered from when her kids were small that when the house was totally quiet, it was likely because they were up to no good.
Maybe the little demon is finally out of energy, she thought exhaustedly, hoping. No sooner had she started to inch back into bed than she heard a plaintivemraowoutside of her bedroom door, followed by an intense and desperate scratching.
Out of an interest for both the integrity of her door and the need for sleep, Mabel threw off the covers yet again, and stomped to the door, yanking it open. The kitten promptly sat upon her haunches, looking up at her with an expression of such innocent confusion that Mabel couldn’t help but laugh, even though she was utterly exhausted.
“What do you need?” she asked, sighing.
The kitten meowed once more, then trotted happily into the bedroom as if that had been an invitation. It leapt onto the bed, went straight for Mabel’s pillow, and immediately began kneading it before curling up directly in the center.
“Oh. That’s all?” Mabel put her hands on her hips, but the kitten didn’t move. It just looked at her sleepily from the comfortable nest of her goose-down pillow, and Mabel sighed, too tired to argue with the tiny creature.
“Fine, we’ll share,” she said, crawling back into bed. “Just go to sleep?”
She propped her head on the small sliver of pillow that was still available, and closed her eyes. Next to her, the kitten had started to purr. It was a surprisingly loud rumble, but Mabel found it oddly soothing. She cracked open one eye as the kitten bumped up against her head.
“My pillow,” she said firmly. “You’re just getting to borrow it.”
The kitten continued to purr, and before Mabel knew it, she was fast asleep once again.
She woke in the morning to crisp, cold sunlight, the sight of three inches of fresh new snow in the yard, and the comfortable, warm weight of a kitten asleep against her shoulder. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was just after seven in the morning.No wonder I’m so tired,Mabel thought, but she glanced at the kitten, who looked positively angelic in this light.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered again, sitting up slowly. The kitten woke, yawning widely before kneading the pillow with an expression of utter bliss. “Good morning to you too. Sleep well?” Mabel asked sarcastically, but there was no bite in it. It was impossible to be upset with the small creature when it rubbed up against her arm, sweet as pie.
