The shelter worker handed me a bag with some sample cat food, a toy mouse, and care instructions. "Congratulations on your new family member!"
I thanked him and carried Marmalade out to my car.
As I drove home, I kept glancing at the carrier in my passenger seat. Marmalade was quiet except for an occasional meow when I took a corner too quickly.
"Sorry about that." I cringed when I had to hit the brakes at a yellow light. "I'm not used to driving with precious cargo."
My apartment wasn't fancy, but it allowed pets and was within my budget, so I carried Marmalade and his supplies up the stairs and unlocked my door.
"Welcome home." I put the carrier down in the living room and opened the door.
Marmalade stayed inside for a long moment, just sniffing the air. Then he emerged slowly with his tail up and alert.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, not wanting to crowd him. "Take your time," I told him softly. "It's all new, but it's safe here."
He explored the living room in a wide circle, sniffing everything and occasionally looking back at me to check that I was still there. I'd prepared for this day earlier in the week and had all the cat supplies I might need. A litterbox, food and water bowls, a cat bed, scratching post, and toys.
Marmalade investigated each item with careful attention.
While he explored, I couldn’t stop thinking about the Santa visit. I'd spent over $100 on tickets for the chance to meet a real Santa who looked and acted the part. It was worth every penny…if I won.
Although, there was a chance Santa wouldn’t want to have a party for one adult.
Maybe I could say it was for a special adult Christmas party. That wouldn't be a complete lie. It would be special, and I was an adult, even if I wouldn't be acting like one during the visit.
Marmalade finished his inspection of the apartment and came over to where I sat. He bumped his head against my knee and then climbed into my lap before turning around twice and settling down.
"Hi there." I gently stroked his soft fur. "I think we're gonna be great friends."
He purred in response, and something in my chest loosened. I hadn't realized how tense and lonely I'd been until this moment with a warm cat in my lap.
"Do you want to play with me?" I asked Marmalade in a higher, younger voice. "I got you some toys."
I reached over and grabbed the toy mouse. Marmalade's eyes focused on it immediately and his pupils dilated with interest. I dangled it in front of him, and he batted at it with one paw.
"Get it!" I giggled and started to feel myself slide into my Little headspace. The stress I’d been shouldering all faded away as I let go of big things and just played with my kitty.
Almost an hour passed of me playing with Marmalade, dangling toys for him and laughing when he pounced. He was such a good cat. When he finally tired and flopped onto his side, I knew exactly what his new name should be. "I'mma call you Mr. Whiskers," I declared in my Little voice. "Mr. Whiskerface the Brave. 'Cause you're brave and you have lots of whiskers."
Mr. Whiskers blinked at me sleepily, apparently not objecting to his new name.
"Are you hungry, Mr. Whiskers? I got you special food." I crawled over to the kitchen on my hands and knees and opened one of the sample food pouches. It didn’t look too yummy once I squeezed it into a bowl, but he perked up when I made airplane noises as I brought it back to him. "Dinner time for brave kitties!"
Mr. Whiskers sniffed the food and then began to eat while I sat back on my heels and watched him. I hadn’t felt this kind of happiness in weeks.
After he finished eating, I showed him his litterbox in the bathroom again and filled another bowl with fresh water. Then I grabbed my favorite worn teddy bear named Mr. Snuggles and returned to the living room floor. "This is Mr. Snuggles." Mr. Whiskers sniffed my stuffie and then rubbed his head against it. "He's my best friend. But you can be my other best friend."
Mr. Whiskers must have decided Mr. Snuggles was acceptable because he curled up next to him and took a nap.
I turned on the TV and found a cartoon channel. Still feeling Little, I sucked my thumb and watched some silly puppies on the show as they saved the day. Occasionally, I would look down to make sure Mr. Whiskers was still there.
During a commercial, my thoughts drifted back to the Santa raffle. Thirty-five tickets had to give me a good chance of winning, right? I sure hoped so. And if I did win, maybe Santa would understand what I actually needed. Maybe he would even play along.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Either way, Mr. Whiskers and I would have Christmas together.
"We're gonna have the bestest Christmas ever." I looked down at my new friend and smiled. "And maybe, if we're very, very lucky, Santa will come visit us."
Mr. Whiskers purred in his sleep, and I took that as agreement. At least I wasn’t alone anymore.
