The Angel Tree
This post was written at the request of my friend Jeanne who asked me to write a Christmas story from a cat’s perspective. My Christmas gift to you!
The Angel Tree
The cat stretched, circled, then settled back down in her spot. Samantha was her human name. She preferred the simple name cat. She answered to either, but only when it suited her purpose. Right now, it didn’t. She ignored the master’s call.
A human lap can be a good place for a nap. She preferred her mistress’ lap, softer, squishier, but the master’s lap would serve in a pinch. Her favorite spot was the top of the overstuffed sofa, especially when the sun glowed through the window. A rarity during these cloudy winter days.
From this perch, she could watch the birds flit by, and squirrels scamper as they collected acorns. Or she could just luxuriate in the warm sun on those days it chose to show up.
Where were those humans when you wanted them? What good were they if they weren’t available at your beck and call when you wanted a lap or a treat or just a scratch behind her ears?
And what about that ridiculous tree they put up every so often. When she was younger, she used to climb amid the branches, batting away at every dangling toy and dodging strings of lights. She would easily tip the tree over when displeased with her humans.
But now it was much too difficult to lift her fat body into the branches. Samantha the fat cat, little mistresses called her. She took it as praise. It took a lot of sleeping and eating to keep her bulk. Now she easily got caught by the webs of lights and sparkling tinsel. So much easier to show her displeasure with a well-placed hair ball. Slippers were one of her favorite targets.
There was the master, accompanied by the little mistress, or so she referred to the younger mistress. The little mistress no longer lived there but showed up on a regular basis, usually with those bratty kids. She didn’t like how they would chase after her and pull her tail, forcing her to abandon her favorite spots and go into hiding. They no longer came as often and now usually paid her no mind. Still, she eyed them suspiciously whenever they came over and flopped down on her couch.
“I’m glad you put up the tree, Dad,” little mistress said.
“I only did it for you and the kids.”
“We appreciate that, or I do. And I suspect Mom appreciates it too.”
The master shrugged his shoulders in response.
“But where are all Mom’s angels?”
“Couldn’t bear to put them up.”
“But we have to. It wouldn’t be Christmas without the angel tree. Mom would want it.”
“Would she?”
“Okay, I want it. And the kids will expect it.”
The master turned away, walked over to where she lay and scratched her just the way she liked. Now that’s more like it, she purred. She had the master well-trained.
“Okay, how about if I decorate the tree?” little mistress suggested.
“If you want.”
Little mistress brought out a large box and started unwrapping angel ornaments and placing them on the tree.
“When did Mom start collecting these?”
“That first Christmas after your brother died.” The master sighed but continued to scratch. Enough already. Samantha snarled and he stopped. “At first she wasn’t going to put up the tree.”
“That’s right. I remember.”
“Don’t know why she changed her mind, but she did. I’m also not sure where she got that first angel. Picked it up at a Christmas craft show, or maybe it was a gift. I just know it appeared on the tree that Christmas. After that she got a new angel most years. Sometimes I bought her one, other times she found one. She bought one for each of your kids when they were born, and one for Dale the Christmas after he died.”
The master picked up an angel. “This one. She hadn’t wanted to put up a tree that year either. But I convinced her.”
“Yeah, I remember, because of my kids.”
Her master hung the angel on the tree. “Not fair to them. They had just lost their dad. Didn’t want them to lose Christmas too.”
Her humans continued hanging angels on the tree, avoiding lower branches. As if she were going to start batting them again, at her age. It was undignified. Still, the thought was tempting. Maybe if they put one within easy batting range … Just the thought was exhausting. She shut her eyes.
Her master paused in his chore. “Each one of them had a story. Your mother knew them all. Now those stories are gone. If only I had listened more when she was alive. Maybe I could have told them to our grandkids.” There was a catch in his voice as if he was about to do that thing humans do called crying. Humans. Harrumph. So undignified.
“Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to put up the tree.” Little mistress put her paw, what humans call hands, on the master’s arm.
“No, your mother would have wanted it.”
“Sit down, Dad. I can finish.”
“I can do it.”
They worked in silence for a while.
“You know, Dad, maybe you should get a dog. One to keep you company.”
Her ear twitched at the sound. Dog? What would the master want with a dog?
“A dog? What would I do with a dog?”
“It would be good company.” Samantha opened one eye and stared at little mistress. What was she thinking?
“I’ve got Samantha for company.”
“But a dog will come running to greet you when you come home and stay by your side.”
Samantha got up, jumped down from her perch, and sauntered over to the master. Stupid dogs. They are so over-eager to please. Surely the master wouldn’t consider getting one. So annoying. Especially when they were puppies. She remembered the dogs that had visited over the years. How they would bark at her until she scratched their noses with her claws. She showed them.
“Samantha and I will do just fine.” Samantha rubbed his legs. “See.”
“Well, think about it.”
“I will, but I can tell you right now it won’t happen.”
“Stubborn old man.” Little mistress smiled as she said this.
“That’s right.”
Samantha settled back onto the couch, this time sitting in the spot her mistress used to occupy.
When they put the last angel on the tree, they stood back to admire their work, just like she had seen her mistress do every year. She didn’t understand it. What was the big deal anyway? There were plenty of trees outside to look at. Why all the fuss over this one?
“Maybe we should get an angel for your mom this year.”
“Maybe.”
They stood in silence a while longer, till little mistress spoke.
“Well, I got to be going. You know. Christmas and all.”
“Yeah, Christmas.”
“You’re coming over for Christmas Eve, right.”
“Right. And Christmas day you’re coming here with the kids.”
“Right.” Little mistress turned and looked at the master. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure.”
“I wish you would consider moving in with us.”
“And leave the home I shared with your mom for so many years?”
“Right.”
“I wish you would consider selling your house and moving here with the kids. There’s plenty of room. More than I need.”
“And leave the home I shared with Dale, even if it was just for a few years.” Little mistress shook her head.
“Right. So, for now, we are staying put.”
“Seems so.”
Little mistress planted a kiss on the master’s cheek before letting herself out.
“Now it’s just you and me.” The master sad down in his recliner. Just the way she liked it. She slowly got up and jumped from the over-stuffed couch to the recliner, settling on the master’s lap. She purred as she wrapped herself into a ball.
Humans. All of this talk about angels. Humans are so foolish. She could tell them about angels if they would listen. Samantha knew the stories of the angels from hearing her mistress tell them so many times. Samantha could tell them about the angels because she saw them all the time. She saw the one they called Dale, the little mistress’ man, after he passed over. She saw him again when he came to visit the mistress along with another angel. Samantha thought he was the brother. She had never met him in this world but knew him from the mistress’s stories. They both came the night before her mistress transitioned into an angel.
Humans. They think they know so much. How little they know. What fools. They spend so much time on things that don’t matter. Don’t they realize that all you need is some cat chow, fresh water, and a warm lap on a cold winter night.
The cat purred as she watched the mistress emerge from the tree and take her place on the sofa next to the master’s chair.
The master smiled and sighed as he petted the cat and looked at the tree. “It’s almost as if she’s here,” he said to the cat.
She is here, Samantha purred in response, but he continued to look at the tree and not at the couch where the mistress’s spirit lingered.
Foolish humans.
Merry Christmas!
Wishing all a merry Christmas, whether in a sunny clime or a snowy tundra, may the light of God’s love keep you safe.
Note – featured picture is of my own “angel tree.” The three crocheted angels were made by my mom years ago. They have reigned over my Christmas tree throughout my children’s growing years. They show signs of aging from the years, but I can’t give them up just yet. Especially not this year as it is the first Christmas without my mom.
Blessings to all!
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