The Cat's Choice

On a moonless night, when the wind whistled in her ears and snow swirled in icy flurries that stung her eyes and matted her fur, the cat knew the time had come to go Inside.

Hunger gnawed at her belly after a disappointing hunt. The food with legs and the food with wings had all been driven to dens and perches by the winter squall. Annoyed, she had resorted to scrounging from the giant stinking box where the two-legged Oafs tossed their scraps. She crouched beneath it now, tail wrapped tightly around her, nibbling sullenly on a frozen chunk of something she hoped was meat.

Was she really planning to go live with one of the Oafs? Just the thought made her itch. She had been Outside her whole life. She’d had plenty of offers to go Inside, of course. Some had even been tempting. But she’d never given in. She had only ever accepted the Oaf’s gifts, rewarding those that gave them with purrs and, occasionally, the opportunity to stroke her without retaliation. That was it. No more. Never once had she been seriously tempted by their offer of walls and doors.

Things had changed now, though. She felt that change deep inside. For weeks she’d known this day would come. Inside meant walls and doors, yes, but it also meant warmth and food. And shelter.

The winds eased. The cat abandoned her pathetic meal and crept out into the open air. Snow still drifted down, soaking into her fur and banishing any lingering doubts she had about her course of action. She shook herself vigorously and began her journey.

She knew exactly where she was going. She had made her selection weeks ago, when the urge to go Inside had begun. The den she had chosen for her new home belonged to a female Oaf, smaller and more graceful than most of her kind. The cat had been accepting gifts from her for several seasons now. The food she offered was of decent quality. It was not quite as tasty as that offered by a male Oaf who lived in the den around the corner, but that Oaf kept a dog in its house. Ultimately, her choice had been clear.

She reached the start of a wide path of dens clustered together, one after another. She blinked, her eyes watering from the glare of the thousand stars the Oafs liked to chain to their dens and trees when the nights grew long. Some of these lights flashed in a frantic rhythm that made her dizzy. She hurried past these. Her paws ached from the cold.

The den she was looking for sat apart from the others at the end of the path. She was relieved to see that the female Oaf had only a few strings of softly glowing stars draped around her den. A strange round branch hung on her door, littered with pine cones and berries. It swayed in the breeze. The cat eyed it warily as she approached the door.

For a moment, she sat, back to the door, head tilted to the sky, remembering forests and freedom. Then she turned, lifted a paw to scratch the door and voiced the most pitiful mrrrrow she could muster.

Long minutes passed. She mewed again, louder, and bumped at the door with her shoulder. This time she heard footfalls. Then a pause. Then the door opened and, in a flash, she leapt inside. It wasn’t until she heard a startled shout from above that she realized the wrong Oaf had answered the door.

***

If Caleb Taylor hadn’t been busy feeling sorry for himself, he never would have let the cat slip by him. He’d thought it was his girlfriend, Sarah, at the door, exhausted after a 12-hour shift in the ER and fumbling with her keys. Sarah, home to celebrate their first Christmas Eve living together. It was a night that was supposed to have ended with Caleb triumphantly presenting Sarah with the tickets that would whisk them away to the balmy beaches of Hawaii. That was before he and hundreds of his coworkers had been rounded up and informed that they were being laid off at the start of the new year.

He knew he had to stop moping. Things could be much worse than a cancelled vacation. It had been Sarah, sweet Sarah, who had suggested skipping presents this year. All she needed, she said, was a mug of Caleb’s world-class mulled cider and a cuddle in front of the fireplace.

Well, the cider was mulling and a fire crackled in the hearth, but Caleb wasn’t feeling any merrier. And now there was a cat in the house.

It huddled in the front hallway, watching him with wide dark eyes, its gray fur dusted with melting snow. He wondered if it was one of the strays Sarah liked to feed on the porch. Sarah liked cats. Caleb did not and he wanted to get this one out of the house before she came home.

“Here, kitty,” he said, bending and reaching for it. In a flash, the cat whirled and darted away, running further into the house. Caleb swore and followed.

In the living room, he stopped in his tracks, gazing at the Christmas tree in the corner, its evergreen branches lovingly festooned in bright baubles while the scarlet tree skirt below lay barren of gifts. Now, beneath the branches, face bathed in golden light from the fireplace, crouched the little gray cat. Caleb gazed down into its eyes and groaned. He knew what he needed to do to salvage this Christmas.

***

Warm. The cat was warm and her belly was full. She sat with her back to the flickering flames and finished lapping up every scrap of the meat gifted to her by the male Oaf. It had been an acceptable offering. Satisfied, she sat back, licking her chops and watching the large creature, who was now laboring to build a nest for her under the strange tree in the corner.

Despite the rocky start, coming Inside was now going rather well. She had forgotten the female Oaf had a mate. He had seemed inconsequential: he’d never given the cat any gifts before now. As ridiculous as it sounded, the cat had thought at first that he did not want to welcome her Inside. That misunderstanding was obviously cleared up now.

The Oaf finished and stepped back, gesturing towards the nest he had made for her. He was waiting for her to inspect it, clearly eager for her approval. She turned her back to it and began to wash her paws.

She heard the sound of a door opening. Moments later, the female Oaf, the one the cat had been waiting for, stepped into view. She was making noise, calling to her mate, when she suddenly stopped, her eyes fixed on the cat. Her eyes grew round and wide and she clapped her paws to her mouth.

The cat preened.

***

“I can’t believe this,” Sarah said for the fifth time. She sat cross-legged in front of the tree, gazing down into the cardboard box Caleb had lined with towels. The little gray cat looked up at her with brilliant sea-green eyes. Sarah reached in slowly and let the cat sniff her fingers.

“How did this even happen?” She asked Caleb. “She’s always been so standoffish!”

“She just walked in,” her boyfriend said, his brow slightly furrowed as he looked at the cat. “Like she owns the place now.” He looked at her, his expression softening. “Are you surprised?”

Sarah beamed.

“I can’t believe this,” she said yet again. “I mean - you hate cats!”

“I don’t…” Caleb started. Sarah gave him a look. “Okay,” he relented. “I don’t really like them. But I know you do and…I just wanted you to have something for Christmas.”

Sarah jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too,” he said. Then he pulled back.

“I love you enough for one cat,” he said. “That’s it. Don’t get any ideas about more.”

“I promise,” Sarah said with a smile.

***

The cat watched the Oafs embrace. Her eyelids drooped. It was time to nap. She snuggled into her soft nest, twisting until she found the comfiest position. The male Oaf had done well. This was an excellent bed.

It would be the perfect place to welcome her first kits.

They were awake. She could feel them, shuffling around in her belly. They had been growing for weeks. She didn’t think it would be long now until they were ready to come out.

She opened her eyes a crack and gazed up at her new denmates, still cuddled together, bathed in golden firelight. She wondered how many kits she would soon present to them. Three? Maybe even four?

She could only imagine how excited the Oafs would be to see them.