Smokey's First Christmas

by Lady Blue

His stomach growled. Because he had not eaten since yesterday morning, the hunger pains demanded more than a cricket or beetle. Food was harder to find now that it was getting colder. He had to settle for bugs instead of the field mice he usually caught and bugs did not satisfy for very long. He came up from beneath the earth and sniffed, wriggling his nose to test the air. A sharp, cold wind blew through his fur, chilled his face and ears, stung his eyes.

"Yes," he said, shivering. "Winter is definitely on its way." Moving up and out of the opening, he stepped cautiously on the hard ground, looked around and checked for any kind of danger. Sensing nothing, he relaxed. This time of year was his favorite. The cool weather gave him much needed energy and a thick coat to help him survive the harsh winter.

"Autumn is almost gone," he said, as he noticed the red, brown, and orange leaves. Most had fallen from the trees and were twisting in the wind. Normally he would take a swat or two at them, bat them around and then lie on their crinkly bed, but this evening supper and hunger called.

He had always lived in the large hole that had been left by a mother fox and her babies. It wasn't much of a home, but after a fox killed his family, he was lucky to find the den. Living on field mice and water from a nearby creek, he was able to survive.

He didn't have a name. "The Big One" or "Big Feet" was how he was known in the thicket. He was quite large for a cat, heavy and fast on his feet. And his feet were enormous! Having extra toes on his front paws made it easier to catch his prey. He was a feral cat, strong, wild and cautious, living by his wits. This night he would need all that strength.

He crept closer to the thicket that hid his home, crouched down, and waited. Soon a young mouse came scurrying, batting at some dried up leaves. One whack with the cat's mighty paw and the mouse was his.

Off in the distance a red barn stood against a darkening horizon. That red barn was always a curiosity to him. Often in the warm summer when twilight turned to evening, the cat would sneak over, jump onto a wooden box under a window, and peek inside. There he'd think of what it would seem like to sleep in the hay instead of underground. He'd think of being petted by the human who took care of the animals in the barn. He'd noticed how her touch was gentle as she brushed the horses' coats until they shone slick in the moonlight.

One night, he went searching for an opening and discovered two loose boards near his wooden box. If he pushed the slats aside he could just squeeze inside, but he never had the courage to try.

Often, when he was at the barn, he would hear mewing, calling, sounds that cats make. He'd wished that it was his mother and sisters calling for him. He'd stood tall to listen, but nothing ever happened. He'd ended up only shaking his head to clear the sounds away.

"It's only the wind," he'd told himself. An urging stirred in him then, a longing deep inside to be part of a family, to be loved and cared for.

As evening approached, he left his nest and went to the creek for water. As he dipped his paw in the cold stream, his stomach tensed. Danger! Something was behind him, something larger than himself. He knew he could not make it to his den. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned to his left toward the safety of the barn. If he could just make it to the barn he would be all right. Then, as hard as he could, he pushed with his back paws and leapt away. "Run! Run! Run!" he told himself. He could feel hot breath on the back of his neck as the creature chased him. His legs stretched, his paws came down hard on the ground. His heart pounded. Faster and faster he went, but the creature was still behind him.

"If only I can get to the barn, I will be OK," he thought as the animal swatted at him, knocking him to the ground. He rolled over, twisted away, got up again and started running. He was turned around. He had lost all sense of direction. He couldn't see the barn! Where was the barn? He searched as he ran faster. There! There it was, but oh, so far away. He felt that hot breath on his neck again. He was beginning to tire. His paws were heavy, his legs hurt.

"Keep going! Keep going!" he told himself. Then he saw the light from the barn window and that gave him renewed strength. Run! Run! Faster! Faster! He saw the wooden box and the light coming from the broken slats, as the creature swatted again, grazing his back. One last leap and he was behind the box. The creature tried to follow, but he was too big. He hit at the box, over and over, the sounds echoing in the cat's ears.

Then, it was quiet. As the cat crouched, shaking, panting, gasping for needed air, he waited until it was safe to move. When he could breathe easier, he slowly turned around and looked for the creature. Gone! The animal was gone! The cat crept out from behind the box and toward the loose boards. He pushed them to one side with his paw and squeezed inside. He felt the warmth at once. As he made his way through the shadows, he headed toward a big pile of hay.

"That will be a good place to hide", he thought. He slipped under, dropped down, exhausted, and went right to sleep. His dreams were of many cats running, mewing and talking.

He stayed in the barn now, for it had become his home. There were plenty of mice and water was always in buckets for the other animals. When the human came to care for the cows and horses, he hid.

Then one day, he awoke to find that someone had put a dish of food near the hay where he slept. He crept slowly to it. Sniffing the food, he used his paw to take some from the dish. It tasted good, much better than the mice he ate. This kindness continued everyday. When he awoke there was the dish of food. Water, too, was put in a dish for him. When the human came in to care for the animals, he saw how kind and gentle she was with them. And he started to trust. For the first time in his young life, he started to trust.

One evening the wind howled and rain pelted the barn. He was glad that he was inside safe and warm. The human came quickly to shut the windows, to check the animals to be sure they were safe. He was out in the light and too frightened to move. He thought if he just stayed still, she might not see him. But it was not to be. She came over and slowly stuck out her hand. She stroked his head. Hers was the first human hand he had ever felt. It was warm and gentle and he moved closer to her, pushing into her hand and rubbing his head against it.

Every day after that, when she brought food, he was there, waiting. The big cat began to trust her and follow her around the barn. As she did her chores, he was right there at her feet. When she finished, she would pick him up and hold him, petting and kissing him.

Then one day, after her chores were finished, she picked him up but did not put him back down. She held on to him tightly and walked out of the barn. He did not know what to do. He could not get away and he did not want to hurt her, so he did nothing. She took him into her house, carried him into her bedroom and shut the door. She put him on the floor and waited to see what he would do. As soon as his feet touched the wood, he ran under the bed to hide. He stayed there all that night. In the morning the human brought him food and water. After she left, he ate, used the litter box she had provided, and back under the bed he went.

One night, it was unusually cold and the floor was drafty. Up onto the bed he jumped. He stayed close to the end in case he had to get away. But the human did not wake up. Every night, from then on, he slept on her bed.

Then one day, after feeding him, she forgot to close the door. It stood open. For a long time, he stared at it not knowing what to do. Then a small cat slowly walked in. As "The Big One" watched from under the bed, he saw the small cat sniff at the bowls and take a drink of water. The small cat jumped up onto the bed, curled up and fell asleep. Then another cat came in, walked over to the bed and peered under it. Two big eyes stared back at it as it jumped back and scurried out of the room.

For the rest of autumn, the cats visited him, but they kept their distance and he learned once again to trust. The human started calling him "Smokey" because of his dark smoke color. He realized for the first time, he had a home and a family. He started coming out from under the bed and soon was going all over the house. The weather grew colder as winter brought snow. He would sit in the window, watch the falling flakes, and remember the red barn that once had been his home.

Then as the end of November drifted into December, the other cats started whispering. They would look at him, mew, and run away. He did not understand what they were talking about and he felt left out. But he was still warm and safe so he could overlook that little thing.

On day, the human brought in a big green fur tree and put it in front of his favorite window. She put lights of different colors on it, big balls that reflected his face and made him look twice his size. She wrapped garlands of red and green around the tree, too.

As she put gaily-wrapped boxes under the tree, her cats sniffed at them trying to figure out what was inside and to whom they belonged. He sat back and watched them play with the lights and balls, batting them and playfully swatting at the boxes. There was one very large package that did not look like a box. Its shape was long and deep. One of the cats tried sleeping in it, but the human swatted her away.

Later, before the human went to bed, she turned out the tree lights. As she made her way to the bedroom, the other cats followed her. Smokey stayed in with the tree. It reminded him of the times he had spent outdoors. He went over to it and sniffed. The pine odor was refreshing, bringing back memories of his life outdoors, of his mother and sisters. Sometimes he was so homesick that at night he could even smell them. Here he was lonely, had nothing that belonged to him. Even though it was just a hole in the ground, that den had been his. He fell asleep thinking about chasing mice, his legs and tail twitching.

The next morning, the cats came running up to the tree, mewing. Smokey jerked awake, startled by that familiar scent again as the cats pawed at the wrapped boxes. He ran under the sofa and watched. One of the female cats leaped at a red ball that hung on a bottom branch of the tree. Her huge paws caught the ball easily. Then Smokey noticed that each front paw had extra toes just like his.

"Patches! Settle down", the mother cat said. "It is Christmas Day, after all."

"Patches? Patches?" Smokey said aloud. That had been his sister's name.

As long as he had lived in this house he had never heard the cats' names being used. He slowly crept out from under the sofa.

"Mother?" he questioned and looked over at the big cat that had just disciplined one of her litter.

"Are you my mother?" he asked again and came closer to the cats.

"Yes, dear, I believe I am." she said.

"What happened? I thought you were all dead. When I came back to the den all of you were gone and there was blood everywhere. I thought a fox had gotten you." Smokey said.

"Mother had killed a rat for us. That was why there was so much blood." Patches said.

"Then after we ate, the smell of what was left brought a fox to our home. We had to get out of there fast." Patches said.

"We didn't even have time to look for you", said the other female cat.

"What happened to you? Where were you?" said the mother cat. "I had fallen asleep. When I finally awoke and came back to the den, there was all that blood. I was scared so I ran away and hid.

"When it was safe to come back, we looked for you. We called and mewed every day," Patches said.

"We were afraid to get too close because of that fox. We finally gave up.

We thought you were dead," said his mother.

"Where did you go? How did you live?" Smokey questioned.

"We found the barn and lived there. The human was kind to us and we gradually learned to trust her. She brought us into her home and we have been here ever since." said his mother.

"Why didn't you say something to me when I came here? Why did you let me keep thinking that you were dead?" said Smokey.

"Because you had to learn to trust, not only the human, but us, too," said his mother.

The human came into the room then, sat down on the floor, and undid each present. She gave each cat its gift. With the toys they received, his sisters played soccer, chase the mouse, and bat the ball. Smokey stayed close to his mother, watching them play. A new sound suddenly came from his throat. Purring deep inside, he leaned against his mother as she washed, first his head, and then his ears.

The human took the large long package from under the tree, unwrapped it and put it close to Smokey. He sniffed at the present.

"Here," she said. "Here is a gift from all of us." She got up, reached over and picked him up. The other cats stopped playing and watched as she placed Smokey in the basket.

"See, it even has your name on it," she said as she pointed to some letters on the side that said "SMOKEY". At last he had something that belonged just to him.

"Did you ever hear us whispering, Smokey?" Patches asked. "We were practicing something very special just for you". Then the cats started mewing and calling. It seemed like they were singing and to Smokey it was the most wonderful sound he had ever heard. "MERRY CHRISTMAS TO OUR BROTHER. MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU, SMOKEY".