THE OLD LADY'S CHRISTMAS MIRACLE CAT

It wasn't always like this. There was a time that when I got together with my family and the talk all around was cheerful and uplifting. Well, maybe Aunt Maude complained about her swollen ankles a bit and Uncle Andy went on about how bad the stock market was doing, but for the most part my Mama insisted talk around her table be confined to what she called, 'happy happenings'. And so I grew to womanhood taking a dim view of folks I tagged, “complainers”.

         In later years I would find ways to skirt around the company of anyone who felt inclined to chatter on and on about their hardships or maladies. I imagine if anyone complained that I was cold-hearted, lacking compassion and empathy, and I'm sure they did, they would have been right. Unlike my Mama, I neither had the time, patience, or talent to gently silence disagreeable talk without becoming offensive. 

         But then, my Mama was a remarkable person. She was a doctor. She always had a kind word for and about everyone. And she had a way of cheering folks up - even the women she tended in childbirth. Can you imagine getting women in hard labor to laugh? Mama could.

         I used to wish I was more like her, but now, at this time in my life, I am much happier being me. Where I am now, there are far too many folks whose entire discourse entails their aches, pains, and general life hardships. I desperately try to side-step them at every turn, but it's as exhausting as trying to walk down a brick road without stepping on any of the cracks. Better that than wasting what's left of my lifetime trying to sway anyone into 'happy happenings' conversations.

         You see, since my stroke two years ago I have fairly well been confined to bed -- trapped in a place filled with people with severe maladies. Unfortunately for me, I quickly found out that my sunny outlook on life, a rare and beautiful thing, is not shared by many in this place.

         Oh, but I have been rude - let me introduce myself. I'm Sarah Waters, of the ‘Kensington Waters’? I'm sure you've heard of me. I was quite the lady in my day. Indeed, I was very politically active my entire life. I was instrumental in helping get congressmen, senators, governors, and even presidents elected. Yes, I was highly sought after for my precise organizing abilities and persuasive speeches. Oh, and when my candidates won, the victory parties I hosted were spectacular! I even attended presidential inauguration a few times. I would dance and dance... yes, I really did! Oh, those were the days! My family was so proud of me.

         Alas, in my late twenties, I settled into family life with husband, Mason Elliot. We had no children. It was just Mason and me. When Mason died ten years ago, I reclaimed my maiden name. You might wonder why. Well, let's just say husband Mason was a bit of rogue. A woman of my fine reputation and community upstanding must do all she can to preserve dignity at all times, even if it was a bit late in coming. I'm sure you agree.

         Oh, do excuse me for a moment. My private nurse has arrived to see after my welfare. Everyone who attends me in this place is most gracious and kindly; no effort is spared to accommodate my every want. They know I'm special.

         Oh, how bothersome! I've just been informed I am to have a new roommate on Christmas day, even though I instructed the staff that my room is to remain a private room. However, they say I need company to get well. And, I agree, but “company” knows to stay no more than an hour or so, and then has the good manners to leave promptly. So, by definition, a roommate is NOT Company. Roommates are forever-lingering busybodies that tire a soul to death. Surely, you agree.

         Well, I will be gracious - to a point. But when she proves to be unsuitable – and she will -- I’ll ignore her. She will grow weary of my silence and ask to be transferred. I’m not cruel, but understand, I have never had a roommate whose conversation was ever to my liking. 

         I am happy with just my cat, Sassy. Oh, this is Sassy right here. She's my constant companion. Yes, she is a yellow tabby. Well, of course I know she’s a stuffed toy cat. She looks almost real though, doesn't she? Do you know what I love best about her? She never complains. She just listens attentively to me. She's the best roommate I ever had, and the only one I could ever want. But, you know, if Sassy could talk, I know she would be absolutely charming. After all, how annoying could the chatter of a stuffed toy cat be? Oh, I know, a very silly idea, but the entire concept rather amuses me. And, between you and me, it could happen -- tonight! 

         Why tonight, you ask? Because, tonight is Christmas Eve! Have you never heard that at the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve, animals can talk? Where did I hear that? It's an old tale my mother used to tell every Christmas Eve.

         No, of course, it never happened. But, even though I am old, I still have the pure heart of a child -- a child who still believes. And, I don't think it matters that Sassy is not a real tabby cat. So, that shouldn't be an issue, now should it? 

         But, if Sassy could talk, she and I would discuss all nature of politics and other interesting important issues. I feel sure she would have clever critiques of the literature I would share with her. Oh, if only my silly wish would come true.

         Oh, you are kind to indulge in my fantasy. But yes, I am tired now. I shall close my eyes and when I open them again, it will be Christmas day! Maybe, finally this year, at the stroke of midnight, my fondest wish will come true!

         "Open your eyes!," I hear.

         Who's that tickling my chin, I wonder? Oh, how can this be? Sassy is sitting on my chest; her great big plastic eyes peering into mine. Oh, it can’t be. Her eyes are blinking. I hardly know what to make of this.

         "Hey, sleepyhead, wake up! " Sassy's sewed-on mouth is moving, fully free of thread constraints.

         She speaks! I’m astonished. If I was a spry old soul, I should have shooed her off my chest with the sweep of my arm and recoiled in fear. But my physical abilities only allow a few body jerks and tightly closed eyes as a defense.

         When I hear licking sounds close to my ear, I risk a quick peek again at my animated stuffed cat. She's licking her left paw with great abandonment.

She observes me watching her. "Even fake fur gets dirty, you know," she says as she continues her task.

         I am beside myself with wonder. I surprise myself by answering, "Yes, I imagine so. One must be well-groomed at all times." Then I laugh nervously. After all, it's not every day one’s own toy stuffed cat speaks to you. What am I to make of it -- all in all?

         "Now,” Sassy probed, “What do you want?" She watches me, waiting; her big incredible plastic eyes again staring directly into mine.

         And when I don’t answer right away, she continued, "Really, I much preferred being a stuffed toy cat to being required to be chummy with you." 

         "Oh, indeed!" I retaliate. "Well, I just thought you would make a pleasant companion. After I read to you, we will discuss the great works of literature...as close friends.” 

         "Well, you won't get off that easy, dear owner," She corrects.

         "Whatever do you mean?” I question.

         "Just look at me? I’m fat and sassy, yes?"

         "Oh, yes,” I agree quickly, “that you are."

         "So, now that I've come to life, I have a few non-negotiable needs."

         "Such as?" I venture.

         "It's just like in the Pinocchio story you read to me last year,” Sassy explained, “only I'm a 'real cat', not a real boy.” Frustrated, she adds, “For such a smart lady, you've hardly thought through this wish." 

         I lay there, staring up at Sassy, not knowing quite what to say.

         "I have a list of demands." She blurts out.

         I could hardly believe my ears. A talking stuffed cat with demands? "You were listening when I read Pinocchio aloud?" 

         She stares at me without blinking, until feeling uncomfortable, I finally say, “Well, go on then. Whatever could your demands be?"

         "Well,” she purrs, “I want that fancy cat food that comes in little tins served in a crystal bowl each and every night."

         "Wherever did you get that idea from, Sassy? And since when do you eat?"

"Since I'm now a 'real cat'. And I need water in my own special bowl with my name “SASSY” engraved on it in big golden letter. Oh, oh, and of course - a kitty litter box, too. I prefer Dapper Cat brand, with magic crystals that clump."

         Well, I am dumbstruck! "How in the world do you know about all these products?" I couldn't wait to find out.

         "TV commercials," She answers. "We do watch a lot of TV together, right? Why don't you get a DVR recorder? Then I wouldn't have to suffer all those other stupid advertisements."

         "You complain just miserably, Sassy. As much, if not more than all the residents here combined".

         She stops washing dead in her tracks. "Are you seriously criticizing me for MY complaining? What about you? You complain about everyone who lives and works here. Nearly constantly. Oh, my poor offended ears. You think just because I couldn't move or talk before that I wasn't aware of your constant talk, talk, talk?"

         "Well, I never...!"

         "…Actually - you ALWAYS do!" Sassy counters in a rather raised voice. She sighs deeply before going on. Her voice takes on a sad, weary tone. "Now that I'm 'alive', I will be stuck here with you day and night. Every waking hour for the rest of your life and mine. So, about my demands. I deserve a few creature comforts for all my trouble, don't you think? And you can't ignore me because I won't let you." 

With that, she bites me on my finger, just to prove her point.

         "OWEEE!" I cry out.

         "Pay attention. If I don't get what I want, I will refuse to acknowledge you or speak to you. I will become as I was. And you will be lonely for the rest of your life. So, don't cross me, old lady!" 

         She lunges for my finger again with her teeth, but I manage to move it away just in the nick of time.

         "Do you really need all those things?" I ask meekly.

         "No, but I want these few luxuries in life. A lifetime ahead of listening to your dreary chatter must be compensated." She makes her case quite well.

         "But Sassy, I’m bed-ridden. I can’t take care of anyone - not even myself."

         "Oops, well, I warned you!" and with that, as she foretold earlier, Sassy became as still as a rock. Her eyes glazed over as life immediately left her. Her mouth threads rejoined together, looking as they had before. And alas, she was again just my stuffed toy cat, Sassy.

         I panicked. "Sassy! Sassy, speak to me! Speak to me...,” but then I stopped mid-sentence. Wait one fine moment -- I had though Sassy would have been the most superb companion. I dreamed we would have had wonderful talks together about all things that were important to me. But, I never imagined that my furry friend, once alive, would have wants and desires of her own. But she did. And I chased her away with my selfish wants and needs. I should have been kinder, more understanding, and even more 'giving'. But I treated her like I treat everyone - like an annoyance. And now, she's gone.

         Do you hear someone in the room? I Pull back the curtain. Who is that? Oh, it's my new roommate. Well, I'll get rid of her real fast, just like the others... or, will I? Do I really want to be alone in this room by myself? 

         What if, just what if I give this new roommate a chance? Is it possible I could be more accommodating? Perhaps, I could be a bit more like my Mama; kind and gracious. And if the conversation should happen to turn to complaints, I could gently encourage 'happy happenings' talk instead.

         Yes, that's what I could do! That's exactly what I will do. After all, today is Christmas day. Christmas is the season of love, charity, and new beginnings. That means a new beginning for me too! I'll start by befriending my new roommate. Then, I just might make friends with the other residents, too.

         Each day I'll get up out of this bed and into my wheelchair – looking for adventure. I’ll join the others in the day room for sing-alongs and other cheerful activities. I can do that! 

         Wait a minute. What is this new feeling welling up inside of me? Oh, it's been so long but -- I suddenly feel happy! And, I feel hopeful again! How marvelous! Oh, I can't wait another moment to start my new life. I'll introduce myself to my new roommate and make her feel welcome right now.

         Thank you, dear Sassy. You are my lifesaver! Perhaps someday when you see that I have changed for the better, you'll come back again.

Maybe next Christmas…