This morning while drinking our coffee (around 5:30 am), the SO and I were watching the news and occasionally commenting on current events and happenings locally. For some reason, something sparked a memory from almost 12 years ago. It was a favor that was asked of me by a friend of ours regarding a kitten and Christmas.
At the time, I was living alone in my duplex (I lived in/owned 1/2 of a duplex); a two-bedroom, one bath tiny place — but it was home and it was mine. The SO and I were dating then and we hung out with another couple every now and then. One of them, I’ll call her ‘R’, asked me if I’d do her a favor. She had bought a kitten and wanted to give it to ‘J’ for Christmas. The thing is, it was still 2 weeks from Christmas and she needed to “hide” the kitten somewhere until Christmas Eve. That’s were I came in. R wanted me to pick the kitten up from the pet store and keep it at my house until Christmas Eve, when she’d come by and get it.
Sounds easy enough, right? ::rolls eyes::
So of course, I said I’d do it. The next day, arrangements were made for me to pick up this little calico ball of fur from the pet store. She was beautiful, as most calicos are; I held her in the palm of my hand and she looked up at me with little flicks of light bouncing off the crazy, shooting fuzz hairs all over her body and head. I almost fell into a cute coma. She sat in her little box on the way home and cleaned herself. She purred and mewed and was downright sickeningly adorable. The next two weeks were going to be a breeze and I’d have a cute little companion who would sit in my lap and sleep while I watched TV or read a book.
Then reality stepped in and I awoke from my trance.
The first night, I invited the SO over for dinner and to meet “Christmas Cookie” (R picked the name, so don’t blame me). When the SO got there however, Cookie was nowhere to be found. I figured she had been frightened by the doorbell or the extra person so I wasn’t too worried about it. Did I mention that I had a little dog at the time and had a little dog door that lead out to the backyard? No, I didn’t. Well I did have a little dog door that lead out to the backyard. I didn’t lock it shut because then my dog wouldn’t be able to get out and pee; he had issues.
Anyway, after spending an hour trying to find Cookie, it was officially determined that OMG, COOKIE WENT OUT THE DOG DOOR INTO KITTY HELL. How could an itty, bitty, fuzzy kitten survive out in the wild that was my backyard? We searched the yard, which was fenced, and could find nothing. It was then officially determined that OMG, COOKIE WAS EATEN BY AN OWL, or some other horrid predator that would completely ignore the cuteness that was Cookie and who would eat her in one gulp.
We freaked, to say the least.
All I could think of was that R had asked me to do this one simple thing and I had managed to not only get a kitten killed/eaten, but I had also completely ruined a very nice couple’s entire Christmas — before Christmas had even arrived. How talented am I?
The SO asked if I had a newspaper. No, I don’t have a newspaper — I lived like a frat boy — I worked, ran, ate pizza and dated the SO; that was my life, no frills, no newspaper. And why the hell do you want a damn newspaper? The world as we knew it was ending, small animals were dying and Christmas was now the date of a Major Disaster.
We got in my truck, drove down to the corner convenience store and bought a paper. We sat there in the parking lot and the SO looked through the classified ads looking for anyone who was selling/giving away calico kittens. Genius, if you ask me; R had never seen the kitten! We spent an hour on the cell phone in my truck calling all over metro Orlando and found no calico kittens. Apparently, Christmas Cookie was the only calico kitten around for miles. Except she wasn’t around any more.
We went back to my duplex and tried to brainstorm some more. That’s when I heard The Noise. It was coming from a stand-alone pantry near the dog door in the kitchen. Something was scratching and making knocking noises. Then we heard the little, “mew”. I pulled the pantry away from the wall, and out walked Christmas Cookie! Just like nothing had happened. I have no idea how she got in there, but she’d been all curled up under there sleeping and had just woke up and realized she didn’t know how to get out.
After locking the dog door (sorry, dog your issues will have to wait), we went into the bedroom. We had this thing where we’d turn off the lights, light several candles next to the bed and we’d sit in bed and read books and talk. It was usually very relaxing and a time to unwind and just be together. Usually.
Christmas Cookie had been laying between us on the bed, occasionally rolling over on her back to swat at our hands or jump up and pounce on our feet. She suddenly got up and walked the full length of the bed, up from our feet and made a beeline for my face. She sat on my chest and playfully tapped my chin with her paw. I turned to the SO, started commenting on how CUTE this kitten was, and in that moment, the stupid cat stuck her FACE into the candle that was sitting next to me on the nightstand. It was a nanosecond, she backed up and I grabbed her almost immediately — but the damage was done.
The kitten now had no whiskers. There were these scrunched-up black, stinky nubs in their place.
Two weeks was going to be an eternity.
From then on out, Christmas Cookie was placed into the bathroom sink (which I lined with a little hand towel), where she’d sleep securely. The toilet was closed as was the bathroom door. We cleaned up her whisker nubs as best as we could, but by the time I handed Cookie over to R on Christmas Eve, they still hadn’t grown back. R gave the kitten an odd look and then looked at me as I whistled a tune, shuffled my feet and looked elsewhere.
A few months later, we spoke with R and asked how Christmas Cookie was doing. She had fit right in with the 2 big dogs, the 2 little dogs and the one old grumpy cat already living there with them (it was a freakin’ zoo, people). R mentioned there was one weird thing about Cookie though — for some reason, she insisted on sleeping in the bathroom sink.
Have you ever done a favor for a friend and had it almost completely blow up in your face?
