| Christmas Kitty - (cont.) |
| She held a tiny kitten. James’ blue eyes teared. “For me?” “All for you.” “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Father seethed. Mother hushed him with a glance. Mewing softly, the kitten walked gingerly from mother’s hands and into James’ arms. Hugging it gently, James closed his eyes and relished the tickle of the soft fur against his cheek. “I hope that you take better care of that cat than you did the gerbil,” Mike taunted. James’ eye twitched and his fists clenched as he remembered. Gerbil…pencil…blood…toilet… “I told you he got out,” he shrieked. The kitten jumped. “Mike, mind your business,” Mother warned. Mike sneered. Rubbing James’ head she said, “it’s okay, honey. I know that he ran away. Nobody’s accusing you. Just make sure you take care of this kitten. Now, what are you going to name him?” “Saint Nick,” he spurted. “That’s a great name,” Mother agreed. Grinding his butt out on the windowsill, Father rose. “I can’t take any more of this. I’m going to take a nap.” Pointing at James, he added. “Nothing had better happen to that animal.” Father disappeared up the stairs. Mother placed her hands on James’ shoulders. “I’m going to go talk to your father. I want you to behave yourself down here.” She implored him with her tone. Snatching up baby Zack, she plopped him in the playpen. With a swish of chiffon and terry, she was gone. Arms loaded with toys, Mike shot his brother a look of disgust, before retreating to his bedroom. James grinned widely. He and Saint Nick were alone. Placing the kitten on the floor, he clapped. “Come here, boy.” The kitten ignored him as it playfully slapped at an ornament. “I said come here, Nick,” he tried again. Uttering a high-pitched mew, the kitten bound across the room to the tree. “Oh no,” James spat as he deduced the animal’s intentions. “Not the tree.” Too late. With a leap, the kitten launched itself into the branches. The tree shook, shedding its ornaments like fruit, as the kitten climbed up through the limbs. Panicking, James plunged into the tree. Needles scratched his face and prickled his arms and the acrid redolence of pine burned his nostrils. Hands sticky from sap, he reached for the cat. It sat defiantly on a low hanging bough, just beyond his reach. “Come on, Nick,” he growled as he strained to reach further. The kitten snuggled his hand-- “Good kitty,” --And bit him. “Bad kitty!” James growled. Snatching the cat by its neck, he dragged it out of the tree. The animal caterwauled in protest. James clutched the animal tightly with both of his hands. “You-don’t-bite,” he scolded. Unable to break free, the kitten opened its mouth, and bit down on James’ thumb. Its needle-like teeth drew blood. “You bad kitty! You want to bite?” Stuffing the kitten’s golf ball-sized head into his mouth, James clamped down. Something crunched. |