by Steve Vernon
OK, I couldn’t help it. I started talking a mile a minute.
“Oh my gosh,” Gina said. “You’re Mr. Chatty, aren’t you?” She bent low to be face to face with me. Our eyes met, and she gasped in surprise.
I reached for her face with my paw. “Gina! It’s so good to see you!” I said. “I missed you!”
“Whoa, boy!” said JP, trying to keep me from climbing onto her. “Sorry, he’s usually really chill.”
I tried touching noses with her. Our eyes filled each other’s.
“What is it, Aunt Gina?” asked Nikki.
“He looks just like Gingersnap Cat—my cat we had growing up…The only thing different is this little mask he’s got.” She reached her finger towards my brow, but when her finger got in range, I kissed it instead. Pain came into her smile. “And of course, Gingersnap died years ago. He was an old man by then! Almost made it to twenty. I practically grew up with him. Hi, sweetheart,” she said, plucking me out of JP’s arms. “Are you a bandit?” she crooned in that voice I loved. “Are you a tuna bandito?” She cuddled me to her.
“His name is Bronco.”
She frowned, mock-solemn. “That’s a good name, Mr. Bronco-Bandito. I hope you’ve been a nice kitty to my nephew.”
“Yes! They’re my family, too! We’re all family!”
She touched noses with me.
The snow went on, and the eating went on, and presents were opened, but I stayed with Gina, heart glowing, feeling like we’d never been separated by anything at all!
24
I sat in the snow, admiring the smooth blanket left behind after the gray sky had moved on. It covered the pines and sticks that backed the pastor’s yard, trailing off into a thin forest. Beyond that I could smell a crystalline blanket—maybe a field?
My ears caught the sound of that one song the humans always played at Christmas time. I’m dreaming of a white Christmas. I always wondered why they played that. Christmases aren’t white; they’re full of reds and greens and golds. Then I thought about the Christmases I’d seen in Heaven, all the humans running around wearing white, happy and together in the soft, smooth clouds.
Maybe they mean a pure Christmas. A peaceful Christmas. Humans get stuff like that wrong all the time.
Around the corner from me, the children scuffled and squeaked and rolled up balls of the white stuff to decorate.
I’d had enough goodbyes in my life to know I didn’t like them. So when Gina had set me down after a long visit on her lap, I made sure to stay hidden, except to wish Patch luck.
“I gotta go, kit,” I’d told him in private, hiding on the dining room seats that had been pushed beneath the table. I looked at him one last time, lining up this young feline before me with the first time I’d seen him in the cage, small and frightened. Now he could trust humans, walk with dogs—and maybe even go to school! “I’m proud of you, kit. I’ll miss you.”
“Thanks, Gingersnap. I’ll miss you, too.”
And that was that. He knew I knew he’d watch over the Dalys—and my Gina, too, if she came around. Keeping an eye on things is what we cats do, after all.
I took another breath of cold air. I could feel the call in my heart: time to go back home to Heaven. Patch was with his family, and they all would make a good home here together with their new friends, like Marta’s family and the pastor’s.
A light like a shooting star broke across the sky. My ride.
“Gingersnap? Partner?” My ears pricked. I couldn’t see Dwight, but I knew it was him. I scented the air. He was in the distance, in the field past the forest. “Time to go!”
I stood, stretched, then made my way forward in the snow. I paused at the edge of the trees, considering one last deep claw sharpening before I went back to where trees weren’t quite so satisfyingly solid when I heard JP behind me.
“Bronco?”
He stood alone at the corner of the house.
My purr dried up in my throat. I didn’t mean for him to see!
I bounded towards the forest, but stopped when I heard his shoes crunching in the snow.
“Bronco!”
I turned around, facing him with my tail low. Even from here I could see the confusion on his face.
He thinks I’m running away.
“C’mon, boy. Let’s go in for cocoa.” He patted his chest, as if to urge me back into the front of his jacket. When I didn’t come, he took a step forward. I took one back.
His voice quieted. “Bronco?”
I know he loves me, but I can’t stay with him. This isn’t what I want. If only I could tell him—
My miracle. I blinked my eyes. Gina said it was like I was wearing a mask.
Lord, please show him, and let him understand.
The warm-hug feeling spread from my tummy up my neck, ’til it reached the last miracle stripe. Funny, now my face felt cooler, like a mask had been lifted off.
“Bronco? What happened to your…” JP stopped. For a second, it looked like he was listening to something.
Then, understanding, like brightness, came over his face. He came forward again, but I didn’t move any.
“You’re an angel?” he asked me.
I slow blinked.
“You’re…Aunt Gina’s cat? Gingersnap?”
I slow blinked again.
“Wow,” he said softly.
Then, slowly, he knelt and moved his hands towards me to scoop me up.
I trotted to him. He picked me up and hugged me tight. “Thank you for bringing Cowboy to us. I promise we’ll take good care of him.”
I purred and groomed his hair. He gave me a final kiss on my nose then set me back down.
“Thank you,” he told me. Then he looked up to Heaven, smiling. He jumped up and down. “Thank You!” he shouted.
I spun around in a happy circle, joining his joy. When he was done, I rubbed against his ankles one final time, then ran into the woods.
As far as goodbyes went, it wasn’t so bad.
25
Dwight and I rode the red chariot up, up, past the darkening night of Earth to the moon-bright firmament of Heaven. We slowed to a stop a few hills away from the Cleanwhisker Christmas tree. A great gathering of cats surrounded the tree—cats spilling out of the barn hayloft, cats chatting by the tables of grass, cats dancing around the tree.
“Guess this is your stop, partner. Nice work.”
“Thanks!” I said, climbing out of the pouch. The grass rustled under my paws with my landing. The feeling of absolute solidity had gone, but it wasn’t bad, just different.
“Thanks for taking care of the human side of the mission,” I told him. “Patch—I mean, Cowboy—wouldn’t have made it without you.”
“Just doing my job.” He smiled. “That family needed a cat angel as much they needed a human one. I mean, if you two hadn’t been the only cats at the fair, no one would have heard of your story. That story is what touched people’s hearts—and people’s hearts are where the miracles really happen. Anyway. Enjoy what’s left of your Christmas, Bronco,” he said with a wink.
Oh, humans!
“You too, Dwight. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.” The chariot began to rise into the air again. Dwight sighed. “Time for the big family sing-along, I guess,” he said, and then the chariot zipped away, turning into a whisker of light zooming towards the Human development. I watched it ’til it disappeared, then turned towards the glow of Cleanwhisker Barn’s tree, ready to join the Christmas Rally.
But instead of the distant lions and lambs Christmas tree, I found the Lord’s feet in front of me!
I bowed quickly. “Happy Birthday, my Lord!”
He grinned and threw his arms open. “Come here, Gingersnap!”
I couldn’t resist the happiness in His voice. I leapt straight up in the air and He caught me in a hug.
“Well done, thou good and faithful servant!”
“Re
ally, Lord?”
“Of course!”
“Did I do better than a dog?”
He laughed. “Oh, Gingersnap Cat! You served others in the best way you knew how, without thinking of a reward, and that makes it one of the best birthday gifts I can ever receive.”
I purred.
“I’ll be by later to celebrate with you and your friends. But I wanted to make sure you knew how pleased I was. It’s not easy being an angel, is it?”
I thought for a second.
“Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t.”
“A very feline answer.”
“But…it sure felt good knowing that I could help Patch because of all the things I’d lived through before. Good and bad.” I touched the wound on the back of His palm. “But I guess You already know what that’s like.”
He kissed me between my ears. “Your friends have missed you.” He lowered me to the hill. “Why don’t you go join them?”
“I will. And Lord?”
“Yes, Gingersnap?”
“Thank You. For everything.” It had been tough, but looking back, it had been wonderful. I’d helped a fellow cat in need, helped a human family, and gotten to see Gina again. And, best of all, the hole in me was gone. I didn’t feel like a missing piece.
And even if that feeling came back, I’d know what to do about it.
“You’re welcome,” He said. “Now you’d better hurry. Those Christmas treats aren’t going to eat themselves.”
I slow blinked at Him, then dashed down the hill towards the Rally.
I hadn’t touched the top of the hill in front of the tree when I was pounced upon.
“GIIIIN-GIEEEEE!” squealed Rodney in my ear.
I flipped him over my head with my back feet.
“Rodney! I missed you!” And I meant it. Wow!
We wrestled for a while until a new voice joined us.
“Gingersnap?”
“George!” I hopped off Rodney to greet the barrel-bodied cat. He raced over to touch noses with me. He let go of the catnip-scented sock in his mouth.
“How was angel-ing? It go well?”
“Tell us about it!” said Rodney.
“Tell, tell!”
Some of the clowder had split off to surround me. Even a few yet-to-be-born kittens stopped running up the tree to come see what the fuss was about.
I looked at their expectant eyes. “So much for a quiet Christmas recovery nap!” I said, and they laughed.
“For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Gingersnap. I used to live on Earth with my family, but like all animals do, I got old and died. I live in Heaven now…”
“Brrr!” said Rodney when I was done. “I loved being alive, don’t get me wrong, but I do NOT miss being cold.”
George grinned. “I bet you looked funny with those miracle stripes!”
Rodney tittered. “He did!”
I shoved a paw in his face.
“Would you do it again?” called a somehow familiar voice from out of the clowder. I sat up on my haunches to see the bobtail cat smiling at me.
“You know,” I said, watching the kittens snooze, “I think I would!”
Afterword: The Real Gingersnap Cat
Years before my husband and I met, he was faced with the most difficult challenge of his life when unexplained health problems began ending his much-loved career. But before his employers could separate him from his post, he was stuck in a bureaucratic limbo, waiting for an official decision about his fate.
During this time he lived in an apartment complex, in a unit with a ground level door that opened onto some stairs. These stairs led into the living area of his second-story apartment.
It was on these stairs that he began making friends with two stray cats who hung around the complex. He started by leaving food and water out for them. He would leave his door open and sit on the steps, watching them and enjoying their company. As they became used to him, they began coming closer and closer, allowing him to pet them, until finally they came inside one day, as if to say, “OK, we’re home.”
They were both orange toms. My husband named the smaller one Pixel—after the titular cat from Robert A. Heinlein’s novel The Cat Who Walks Through Walls—and the bigger one Gingersnap Cat.
Since I never knew Gingersnap, I asked my husband to describe him to me for the story. He was apparently stoic, and a little older than Pixel, who was something like a teen kitten at this time.
Finally the day came when my husband had to move out of his apartment. During this time, both cats had been confined to a room with their litterbox…until one of the movers accidentally opened the door. Pixel stayed inside, but Gingersnap escaped out the front door before anyone could catch him. My husband returned to the complex several times after the move, hoping to bring his second ginger friend with him, but my husband never saw the cat again.
So although Pixel is living a fine life with me and my husband these days (so spoiled he even has a publishing company named after him, natch), the mystery of what happened to Gingersnap still weighs heavily on my husband’s heart.
The years between adopting Pixel and meeting me were hard on my husband. Oftentimes this little orange cat with white socks and mittens was the only thing getting him through some very hard times.
Knowing this, I suggested to my husband that Gingersnap may have been Pixel’s kitty guardian angel, sent to make sure he got to the right home at the right time so he could see my husband through those rough years.
This book is a tribute to that idea—and to the memory of the real Gingersnap Cat. Wherever he is, we hope he’s happy. The cat he left with us, Pixel, surely has been a major blessing in our lives.
Danielle Williams and Husband
Pictured: Pixel J. Cat, Esq.
Special Thanks…
…to Brooke D., for checking the story for typos.
…to Joan B., for picking up typo duty when Brooke fell ill.
…to Sally J., for typo-checking the print edition.
…to Marisol T., for the shooting star transportation idea.
…to Joe W., for the great name “Riss-riss”.
…to the Way of Cats blog, for posting such great information on cat personalities of all kinds.
…to my husband, for encouraging me during such a long project.
Also by Danielle Williams
WONDER
Out Where the Sun Always Shines
* * *
HORROR
The Bureaucrat
Growing Shadows in the Desert
Side Effects May Vary
What the Cat Brought Back
* * *
HUMOR
Magic Fashion Frenchies #1: Love Potion Commotion!
A Gingersnap Cat Christmas
The Purrfect Christmas
* * *
FORTHCOMING
Steel City, Veiled Kingdom
The Horror of Hriana
Magic Fashion Frenchies #2: Salute a Pooch!
* * *
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About the Author
Danielle Williams has always loved talking animal stories. Some of her favorites include Watership Down, the Ratha series, and the tales of Rick Raccoon and Scarlett Fox in Ranger Rick magazine.
She graduated from Brigham Young University in 2006 and currently resides in the Wild West with her husband and his cat, who was kind enough to adopt her.
Hints of fantasy and science fiction always sneak into whatever she’s writing.
For more info about Danielle and her upcoming ebooks, visit PixelvaniaPublishing.com.
Description
Who’d imagine caring for pets is dangerous?
Sierra lives on the planet Raun where she takes care of a family’s pets. As an Earth human on Raun, she wears googles every day to protect her eyes from the local sun. M
uch is different on Raun, some a lot more dangerous than on Earth.
Her charges, the Raun version of cats (similar but also not), can make a lot of trouble for her. And why wouldn’t cats do that?
For Xerxes,
I miss you still, oh cat of mine
1
Even cat shit smelled differently, a mix of mulch and strawberries. After three months, Sierra still forgot such simple things. Nothing was like Earth, but she could always associate to something, those somethings just didn’t make sense in the context. How else do you describe a smell than by other things you’ve smelled?
Shaking her head, she focused her mind back on the task of cleaning up the cat poop. Well, it wasn’t quite cats that had left it, more like house-cat-sized panthers with unusual colors and odd eyes.
Sierra rolled her eyes at herself. She still couldn’t let it go—the differences. They always nagged on her mind. Raun was very different from Earth, and why wouldn’t it be? Wasn’t that why she came here? A change of scenery had been just what she needed. Earth had gotten so dark lately. For her, at least.
A careful look around the entrance hall revealed no more poop. She closed the vacuum sealing bag and pulled a bit of cloth from the left front pocket on her coveralls. It took only a second to polish the beautiful green stone floor to make it sparkle. The green stone was native to Raun and reminded her of marble back at Earth, only this was green with black and gold streaks.
The cloth went back into her pocket and she pushed her hair out of her face. Some strands just weren’t long enough to stay in the ponytail and she couldn’t bother with hairpins. She took a moment to adjust her goggles to make sure they were tight. It would be very bad to lose them. The light on Raun would destroy a human’s eyes, an Earth human’s eyes. The native inhabitants of Raun were humans as well.
