Page 19 of Reindeer in the Headlights
Tinsel chased Mistletoe around the Christmas tree, and Ambrose and I moved as one to rescue the tree before they tried to climb or fight it. We each picked up a kitten, and they tried to attack one another with their tiny paws.
“We need to get these two toys and better kitty litter and beds.” Though if they made kitty boxing gloves, I’d buy those too.
Ambrose turned his nose up at the word litter. “My beast isn’t fond of animals pooping and peeing in the house, and that stuff we have now is bad.”
I explained about self-cleaning litter boxes, and he told me his reindeer cheered up on hearing the news.
“We can stop at the pet store first.” Getting the kittens kitted out was more important than me getting clean socks or my shaving gear.
Deciding not to chance driving my car, we took Ambrose’s truck, and two excited kittens accompanied us. I’d placed them in a box on my lap, but that was useless, so I had to clutch them all the way to the store where the first item on the list wasn’t kitty litter but cat carriers. These two had to be contained while we were in the car.
When I wasn’t wrangling kittens, I looked out the window at the snow. As I wasn’t the one driving and it was daytime and Ambrose was familiar with the roads, I was able to appreciate the beauty of the snow-covered forest.
But too soon, the trees gave way to houses, then businesses, followed by tall buildings and traffic lights, along with noise and lots of people. The night of the infamous Christmas party, I hadn’t wanted to leave the city, and now I made a note of everything that wasn’t the countryside. I didn’t want to be hereand longed to be back in the cabin with my mate and our furry kids.
Reaching over, I placed one hand over my mate’s as he rested it on the armrest. He grinned, but the kittens wanted to get close to Ambrose too, and I grappled with them. I’d been in one car accident; I didn’t need our family to be in a second.
The pet store I chose was a family-run place, not one that was part of a big chain. The owner welcomed us, and when Ambrose and I struggled to contain the kittens, he showed us two cat carriers.
“We’ll take them.”
But as we browsed the store and ticked off items on our list, our fur babies were indignant at being trapped. They whacked the carrier walls, mewled, and scratched until we got them out, and the owner said they could run around.
Tinsel launched himself at a display of cat toys, and we bought ten and gave them to the pair. That got their interest for a few minutes until they turned into fur-covered tornadoes, knocking over displays and climbing into a litter box and kicking litter everywhere.
The owner laughed and said they were choosing what to buy.
Before we left, we had two beds—Tinsel curled up in one, and we had to carry him out in it—self-cleaning litter boxes, toysthey’d played with, food, and bowls. If we'd forgotten anything, we would have to buy it next time because Ambrose appeared to be as exhausted as I was.
I joked to my mate that our purchase probably cost more than my car repairs.
“It’s worth it.”
The kittens slept on the drive to my house. It was in a quiet neighborhood, though not as peaceful as the cabin. Walking through the door, I’d always gotten the sense the house welcomed me, but today, there was nothing. It was four walls and a roof, and it contained stuff. There was no emotion, or regret that the house probably wouldn’t be our permanent home.
Ambrose appeared with the sleeping kittens, who were not in their carrier.
“That’s home,” I said.
“What is?” he asked, confused.
“You and the kittens, along with the woods and the cabin.”
“And work?”
I shrugged because I had two weeks off, and I’d think about my job tomorrow or the next day or perhaps the next. The house would have to be rented or sold, but I’d put that in a realtor’s hands.
I closed the door, not just to the house but to my former life.
“Let’s go home.”
12
AMBROSE
Wyndham and I hadn’t decided everything about what our life was going to look like now. Truth be told, we really hadn’t figured out much of anything, other than that my cabin was now our home.
There was so much to decide, from his job to what to do with his old place and whose furniture to keep and whose to sell. But every single ounce of that was put on the back burner. It was Christmastime, and we were going to enjoy it… together. He was technically on vacation, and we were treating it as such.
