The Empire State Cat's Christmas Gift

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The Empire State Cat's Christmas Gift Page 24

by Nic Tatano


  “You continue to amaze me. All this for me.” And then it dawned on her. “Well, I do have one gift for you, but I didn’t have the chance to wrap it yet.”

  “I don’t care. Bring it on. But I already got what I wanted for Christmas. You.”

  “Awww.” She grabbed her purse from a chair, reached inside, and pulled out a small square box. “Sure hope you like it because it’s all I’ve got.”

  He took the box from her, opened it, and his face lit up. “Oh, this is gorgeous.” He took the silver antique pocket watch from the box and studied it.

  “I know you love old watches but I hadn’t seen you with a pocket watch.”

  “I don’t have one. I’ve been looking but never found one I liked. This is perfect. Even has a beautiful chain. Where did you find it?”

  “Estate sale down the street. The glass was broken and it didn’t work. The watchmaker fixed it and said it’s probably a hundred and fifty years old.”

  “Thank you, Tish, it’s perfect. I love it.”

  She pointed at it. “You haven’t seen the inscription. I had it engraved.”

  He looked at it and bit his lower lip as he read it aloud, “To Spence, for all time. All my love, Tish.” He looked up at her, his eyes moist. “And now it’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever received.”

  They lay back, spent, as the flickering fire sent light dancing around the bedroom. “Young lady, you have proved by theory beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

  “What theory?”

  “About women who look and act conservative in public. Once the glasses come off and the hair comes down, she’s a hellcat in bed.”

  “Being on top makes me a hellcat?”

  “No, but I never expected you to be so…aggressive. Not that I’m complaining. I like that you take the initiative.”

  “What can I say, I enjoy making love to you.” She took his hand, entwined her fingers with his, then leaned on one elbow to face him. “Speaking of love, I wanted to ask you—”

  “Tish, sex with you is incredible but I can’t possibly go a fourth time today. My God, you’re insatiable.”

  She laughed a bit. “Not that. And trust me, I am beyond satisfied right now.”

  “Good. I was worried you’d kill me before the wedding. Though I’d die happy. So what did you want to ask?”

  “I was curious…when did you buy the engagement ring for me?”

  He scratched his chin. “Uh…let’s see… I guess it was the week before the trial.”

  “Do you remember the exact day?”

  “Not really. Why, does it matter?”

  “I was wondering when you decided you were in love with me.”

  He leaned up and turned to face her. “Oh, I see what you’re up to. You’re not fooling anyone with your little lawyer’s trick, young lady.”

  “What?”

  “You’re trying to figure out if I fell in love with you before you fell in love with me. Because neither one of us wanted to say it first.”

  “I’m just curious—”

  “Hold it right there. I have a question for you. When did you have the pocket watch engraved?”

  “About a week before the trial. I don’t remember what day.”

  “Uh-huh. So I guess this will forever be unresolved.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll borrow a line from a Tom Cruise movie and say you had me at whoa.”

  “I’d say that’s a very accurate focal point for me as well.”

  “I have another question.”

  “What’s the deal, does this bed convert into a witness stand?”

  “I promise, just one more.”

  “Fine.”

  “What is it about my eyes that seems to do things to you?”

  He signed and smiled as he locked eyes with her. “Ah, my Kryptonite. You want the secret now that we’re going to be married so you can use it against me.”

  “No, I’m just curious. I mean, I’ve had people tell me I have really pretty eyes before, but I’ve never had a reaction quite like yours.”

  He gently brushed her hair back from her face. “Well, the first time, it was the color. Reminded me of the water in the Caribbean. But then as I got to know you it was more of that windows of the soul thing. And in a way you’re like the Caribbean. Deep, peaceful, relaxing, comfortable. I look into your eyes and I see a little bit of paradise that is your soul.”

  “That’s so beautiful, Spence. Thank you.”

  “Oh my God, she took a compliment.”

  They both laughed as Socks jumped on the bed. Tish stroked the cat as she lay down between them. “She’s sure glad to be home.”

  “That makes three of us. Of course, we wouldn’t be in this position without her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s the reason I knew Brent had paid off the jury.”

  “Huh?”

  “She was in my office, on my desk. I had taken off my watch and she wanted to play with it, so I took it away and told her it was not a toy, that it was expensive. And that’s when what I’d seen on the jury hit me. A Rolex watch on a blue collar guy. If Socks hadn’t gone after my watch, I probably wouldn’t have made the connection. So I called my friend Kayla who’s a private investigator I grew up with in my old neighborhood and she got all the evidence. She didn’t get it to me until right after the verdict came in. I brought it to the judge and the rest is history.”

  “So it wasn’t some woman you didn’t know who gave it to you.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell Judge Winston I was having my own client investigated. Though she probably figured it out. She can look the other way like any other New Yorker to do what’s right. Anyway, without Socks, none of that would have happened.”

  “Maybe not the verdict, but you would have ended up here eventually.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Hey, what was I going to do with an engraved watch? And what were you going to do with an engagement ring?”

  “Very true. Your cat just made things a lot easier.”

  “She’s not my cat, Spence. She’s our cat. So this is the perfect fairytale ending. We will live happily fur-ever after.”

  Socks hopped off the bed in the middle of the night and made her way to the kitchen to get a snack. Her person had left out some treats for her. She ate a few, took a drink of water and headed back to the bedroom, stopping for a moment next to the tree she couldn’t climb. Socks looked out the window to watch the falling snowflakes against the streetlight. She wondered if it would be fun to catch one of them.

  She trotted back to the bedroom and hopped up on the bed, then lay down and went to sleep between her two favorite people, stretching out her front paws over the woman’s leg and the back ones over the man’s.

  So they couldn’t get away without her waking up.

  Finally, she had reached her goal, getting them in the same place.

  In her home.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Cats have always been a part of my life.

  When I was about seven my dad gave me a puppy, his theory being that dogs were for boys and cats were for girls. Well, I wanted a cat. So one day later he found another home for the dog. (Somewhere there’s a photo of me holding the puppy on a leash, looking like I’d just been fed a dinner of liver and Brussels sprouts.)

  My grandparents lived around the corner, and my grandmother liked to feed to stray cats that lived in the neighborhood. I’d go over after school and she’d let me bring the food out to them. They’d follow me like the pied piper, but of course when I tried to pet them they’d run away.

  Except for one. A beautiful, long-haired, black and white kitten. She’d come right up to me and let me play with her.

  Mom said I could have a cat if I took care of it. You know, that thing about teaching kids responsibility. So I brought the kitten home. My mother said she was “cute as a button” so we named her Buttons.

  Buttons lived eleven years, and that cat had a clock in her head. My mot
her told me that every day she’d jump in the front window at three o’clock, waiting for me to walk home from school. Cat care came before homework as Buttons loved to be brushed. Allowance money often went for cat toys. And so the obsession with cats began.

  Since then I’ve had many cats, and they all seem to find me. Strays, orphans, special needs kitties. I seem to attract cats that need help, or simply a home. I think cats have a sixth sense which brings them to cat people. And they also know when a family “has an opening” for a cat.

  So this book is for Buttons, my first cat, who introduced me to the unique relationship that’s possible with an animal. There’s nothing quite like the connection you feel when a cat locks eyes with you and looks right into your soul … and lets you feel the unconditional love of a pet.

  BONUS MATERIAL

  PAW PRINTS ON MY HEART

  by Nic Tatano

  Pandora looked up at the couch and knew she wanted to jump, but for some reason she didn’t. Her mind told her back paws to spring, but nothing happened. “What is my problem?” she asked herself.

  “Your mind is scrambled,” said the voice. “you’ve had a stroke.”

  Pandora turned and saw the golden tabby smiling at her. “Who are you? And what are you doing here? This is my house. Get out.”

  “Don’t you remember me?” asked the angel-cat.

  “I’ve been a solitary house cat for seventeen years. How would I remember you?”

  “We were friends before you came here. I’m your escort.”

  “Escort. To where?”

  “You’re going home.”

  “I am home,” snapped Pandora.

  “Don’t you remember anything about your mission? Your job as an orphaned kitten?”

  ***

  Pandora looked up at me and meowed as I lay back on the couch. “She wants to come up,” my wife said.

  I patted my lap, waiting for her to jump but she didn’t. She meowed again. I reached down and picked up the Siamese and lay back with her on my chest. “She’s getting too old to jump,” I said, as I stroked her soft fur and enjoyed the purr I got in return.

  The next morning I walked out of the bedroom and found Pandora sleeping. In the litter box. (Thankfully it was clean.)

  “What are you doing in there?” I said, as I scooped her out and brushed her off. I looked into her ice blue eyes and for the first time I didn’t get a look of recognition. I put her down and she staggered away, walking like she was drunk, favoring her left side.

  My wife scratched Pandora’s head and she began to purr, but it was clear our cat had somehow changed.

  I cooked a sunny side up egg as always and gave Pandora the yolk, her favorite food. She stared at it but didn’t seem to know what to do. I put a little on my finger and wiped it across her mouth, and she licked it off. Then she began to eat.

  “I think she’s had a stroke,” said my wife. “But she’s not in pain. She still purrs.”

  Pandora finished the yolk and just stood there. She tried to wash her face but wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Egg yolk coated her long whiskers. I picked her up and looked into her eyes, hoping for that familiar look that always seemed to go right into my soul.

  Nobody was home.

  But she continued to purr.

  She spent the whole day sleeping. I noticed later in the afternoon that the level on her water bowl hadn’t changed. It was clear we were going to have to remind our cat to eat and drink. I dipped her chin into the water but she didn’t drink. After several failed attempts my wife put water in an eyedropper and squirted it into her mouth.

  Something clicked. Pandora drank two bowls of water.

  Still, we were faced with the decision I had always dreaded. We kept coming back to two simple facts.

  She wasn’t in pain.

  She still purred.

  And the one complicated fact that trumped all.

  I simply couldn’t do it.

  I thought of my late father who had spent the last 59 days of his life in a hospital, hooked up to tubes and machines and not knowing where he was half the time. I know he would have traded those last days for one day at home on the couch watching the Mets.

  So we decided to let nature take its course and let her spend her last days at home on the couch, watching the birds.

  ***

  “So let me get this straight,” said Pandora. “We’re actually angels on some sort of mission?”

  “Correct,” said the tabby, shaking her body so that her wings appeared.

  “You’ve got wings,” said Pandora. “They look ridiculous. Can you fly?”

  “They’re mostly symbolic,” said the angel-cat. “Personally, I find they just get in the way. I generally take them off when I get home.”

  “So tell me about this mission.”

  “Well,” said the tabby, “we pets are angels who report on the behavior of certain humans. For most people having a pet is normal. But you chose the assignment to be an orphaned pet. You really beat the odds surviving as long as you did. Adopting an orphan takes a special kind of pet owner. What people will do to save a helpless animal is a good indicator of their true being.”

  Pandora struggled with the concept, her mind still misfiring. “So how they took care of me … shows what kind of people they are?”

  “Your mind isn’t totally gone.”

  Pandora looked up at her people. The man and the woman were both

  Stroking her head. She struggled to remember her mission, but it was still fuzzy. “So my job is just to report on how I was treated?”

  “Yes, along with your normal duties as a cat. You know, unconditional love, keeping them guessing about what kind of food you like, sensing when your master is having a bad day …”

  “I can still feel that,” interrupted Pandora. “I can’t leave just yet.”

  ***

  On October 1st, 1988, Myra (my fiancée at the time) heard some noise in her parents’ barn. When she investigated she found two white kittens in the bottom of an old fish tank, abandoned by the mother cat. She brought them inside and fed them with an eyedropper. The next morning one had died. The surviving kitten needed constant care. Myra found a tiny baby bottle from a doll house, filled it with cream and egg yolk and honey, microwaved it a few seconds and held it near the kitten’s mouth. She grabbed it with both tiny paws and sucked it dry.

  But the realities of work presented a problem. Myra was a school teacher, gone all day. There was no way this kitten could go eight hours without food. But as a television feature reporter I had a flexible schedule and my apartment was just a few miles from the station. We decided I would take the kitten since I could scoot home and give her a bottle of our homemade formula.

  We made her a bed out of a styrofoam beer cooler. We lined it with a heating pad, added a teddy bear along with a ticking clock and placed the kitten inside. She quickly adapted to her new home, and cuddled with the stuffed animal. She was warm and safe. We quickly found out she was extremely curious, even for a cat, and named her Pandora after the character from Greek mythology known for her curiosity.

  Now I’ve had cats all my life, despite the notion that men should be drawn to dogs while felines belong with women. When I was about seven my father brought me a dog even though I had told him I wanted a cat. Giving a child a dog that had to be walked in the middle of a Connecticut winter was not a wise choice versus a self-cleaning kitty, and dad soon found a new home for the dog while I adopted one of the strays from my grandparents’ yard. I named her “Buttons” and she was the best companion an only child could have for eleven years.

  Over the years I’ve had numerous cats, but in this case I learned two things. First, Siamese cats are born white. They get their points (dark mask, socks and tail) as they grow older. They’re also a bit neurotic and very vocal, howling for no reason at all. Second, orphaned cats that are bottle fed by humans tend to be a bit on the wild side, never having had a mother cat around to discipline them. In essenc
e, Pandora didn’t really know she was a cat, having been basically raised by wolves. Combine the two and you end up with a cat that has more personalities than Sybil. Most people thought Pandora was a bit unusual, and they wouldn’t be wrong.

  She liked launching sneak attacks at people, including me. She could be a loving, purring kitty one moment and the next go into full blown Tasmanian devil mode, complete with hissing, spitting and biting. Once I got a call from the apartment manager who told me the pest control man was chased out of the room by a “vicious twenty pound cat.” I invited her over to meet Pandora. The cat didn’t disappoint. She turned into a sweet, seven pound fuzz ball who even gave the manager a lick. “What a sweet cat,” she said. I could almost see Pandora smiling when she left.

  There was no gray area with Pandora. She either loved you or she didn’t. And there was no common denominator. She loved Kathie’s husband. Hated my sister-in law’s boyfriend so much she charged him when he entered the house. If you were a single guy she licked your head. If you were under the age of seven, you feared for your life. She refused to leave the house when we went on vacation. She liked her cat-sitters, Chris and John. Curiously, they both owned a Siamese. Pandora must have sensed this.

  And for those who maintain cats cannot recognize faces, consider this. My friend Ray would visit and turn his back to Pandora. No reaction. The minute he showed his face she turned into a Halloween cat, complete with arched back and growl.

  Veterinarians knew to maintain their distance. One was having a particularly hard time getting the troll out of the pet carrier, so she told her assistant to “get the falcon glove.” She then gave Pandora her shots wearing body armor used to handle giant birds of prey.

  Pandora was horribly jealous of Myra when we got married. She liked to sneak up on her when she had just stepped out of the shower and was drying her hair. Pandora would jump straight up, snort, and bite my wife in the backside.

  She often slept in the guest room, which made things difficult when we had actual guests. Turndown service from Pandora meant a gift on the pillow for these interlopers, and it wasn’t a mint.

 

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