Shirley Murphy - Christmas Cats: A Literary Companion

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Contents

Introductioni

Shirley Rousseau Murphy

Holiday Sparkles, or Home for the Holidays9

Amy D. Shojai

Along Comes Spit McGee from My Cat Spit McGee21

Willie Morris

Vincent41

Jim Edgar

The Rescue from The Ca't Who Came for Christmas61

Cleveland Amory

Kitty at the Keyboard83

Steve Dale

Spooky Gives Us a Scare91

Janine Adams

My Mother's Cat101

Renie Burghardt

The Real Thing109

Beth Adelman

Bengal Turkey Divine117

Miriam Fields-Babineau

Excerpt from Rest in Pieces139

Rita Mae Brown and Sneaky Pie Brown

Letter to Louise, Part III: Being the Meditations of Midnight Louie in New York City from Cat in a Golden

Garland: A Midnight Louie Myster y149

Carole Nelson Douglas

The Noel Cat157

Shirley Rousseau Murphy

Kitty "Box"-ing Day183

Betsy Stowe

The Mystery of Musetta's Mistletoe185

Clea Simon

Holiday Safety199

Christine Church

The Purr-fection of Christmas Ritual209

Wendy Christensen

God Rest Ye Merry, Kitty Cats223

Laurie Loughlin

Buster the Feline Retriever225

James Herriot

About the Authors239

Credits and Permissions244

A Note from the Publisher246

Introduction

Shirley Rousseau Murphy

From feline sleuth to denizen of organized crime to television starall of them sharp clawed and blessed with satisfying purrsthe cats in this collection offer Christmas stories to fit your every mood. If you will heed Wendy Christensen's advice to spend at least part of your holiday curled up before a blazing fire with your cat and a good book, these tales offer laughter, wonder, and sometimes tearsbut always a happy ending to add a touch of magic to your Christmas.

Memories of long ago Christmases when I was a child bring back that quiet magic for melong rainy afternoons reading a wonderful story, snuggled with one cat or another; quiet times when I could touch other worlds and other lives, all woven in with the family rituals of the holiday season.

There were always cats at Christmas, sleeping beneath our decorated tree or beside the hearth, young kitties batting at ornaments while the older, more sedate fellows shared holiday snuggles and bits of our turkey. My first two cats were a Christmas gift when I was six: a pair of black kittens offered by my kindergarten teacher who, desperate to find takers for the big litter, recognized an easy mark in my pet-loving mother. Gracie and Charlie lived very well in our house, indulging in ample petting and warm beds. They received gift-wrapped toy mice at Christmas, and new blankets tied with bows. After their deaths there was a long succession of other beloved house cats, among them gray-and-white Skipper who, on a cold December day, brought home with him a young, thin stray; Skipper leaped and clawed at the screen door until we let the starveling in and fed him. Of course that tabby cat never left. He shared many Christmases with us, and he and Skipper remained pals. We named him Hungry, which he always was, and he grew up large and sleek and very mellow, after his rough beginning.

My father trained horses, and at our stable, several miles away, little gray Peggy appeared on another wet winter day; winter is hard on a small, homeless animal. She, too, was a starveling. She, too, soon grew fat and sleek. Peggy became our prize mouser; but it was jackrabbits that challenged her. Early mornings, she would leave her current litter of kittens in the hay barn and follow my father into the pastures when he irrigated, wading up to her belly in water as she watched for jackrabbits escaping from their flooded holes. Dispatching her quarry quickly, she would drag a rabbit as big as herself back through the water for long distances, to give to her babies. Over the years, my parents found homes for dozens of Peggy's children. In those days, no one thought of neutering a cat. I don't like to think how many unwanted kittens led a hard and homeless life or died alonebut not the cats my parents befriended. My mother and father respected our cats as they did our working dogs and horses; they understood that all animals bring to our lives a deeper dimension. I knew that gentle magic in the company of our animals, just as I did in the rituals of Christmas. Humankind's fascination with all the mysteries of lifefrom the inexplicable knowledge we see in the eyes of a species other than our own, to the greatest mystery of all, the mystery of Christ's birthsprings from the same deep genetic hunger to touch the unknown.

Mankind's every invention owes its genesis to our need to explore the unexplainedas does every great work of art or music or literature. We are drawn powerfully to that which we don't fully understand, whether it is the mystery of the numinous, or secrets of the earth or of the stars and planetsor the secrets reflected in the eyes of a little cat.

Surely the cats' secrets have stirred the imaginations of writers.

One can't count the writers, contemporary or long dead, from Sue Grafton to Nancy Willard and Alice Adams to Ernest Hemingway, or Colette, whose homes and studios have been peopled with cats.

The writer's cat, prowling the desk and bookshelves, might hint of mysterious threads of story to untangle, or nuanced facets of character to sort out. Or perhaps the sly wit of the writer's cat is reflected in a body of work.

But the writer's cat is a healer, too, bringing to the often lonely workplace an oasis of warmth and comfort, a companionship that is welcome when work has gone awry or when one feels bleak and alone.

Whatever the cat's gifts to any of us, it is, of all the living creatures put on this earth by the master of mystery, perhaps the most elusive.

Surely, when we mix the mystery of cat with the mystery of Christmas, we call forth, as if by true magic, the voices of the storytellers

Renie Burghardt brings us tears as we experience her painful childhood in war-torn Hungary, with her beloved companion Paprika; but she offers us a gentle continuity, too, a sense of far more seen in this world than our immediate danger or pain. Steve Dale shows us how to love a very special and talented cat; we shed tears for Ricky, but we rejoice as Steve builds, to Ricky's memory, a most important monument. James Herriot's story of Buster is heartrending, too, yet it is filled with joy that brings happy tears at Christmas.

There are offerings that make us laugh and nod and say, "Having a new kitten is like that. I know exactly, Amy Shojai, what you are talking about." Or, after reading about Spit McGee, you might tell Willie Morris, I, too, have felt like this about catsand I have reacted just as you did! In these pages we can live with Cleveland Amory as he discovers his own Christmas surprise. And we cry with Janine Adams at Spooky's disappearance, for the loss of a cat is devastating to a childbut his return is indeed a miracle.

If you are among the readers who like a touch of crime for Christinas, Miriam Fields-Babineau's Christmas dinner may be in order. Or perhaps Rita Mae Brown's cat, Mrs. Murphy. Or Carole Nelson Douglas's brash and cheeky Midnight Louie. Or if you prefer to follow in the pawprints of the criminal himselfin this case, a feline hood of sophisticated talentsJim Edgar's Vincent should please you. They're all here to entertain you, the storytellers and their cats. My own Christmas offering does not star Joe Grey, P.I., solving crimes along the California coast. This story is set in rural Georgia, as are others of my short stories. I did confer with Joe Grey on the matter of its inclusion; he has rendered his approval.