Fiction

Best Christmas Ever

Jeremy Schneider

When I heard the twinkling bells I caught my breath and listened. Santa Claus was downstairs in the living room, I was sure of it. It had to be Santa, who else could it be? It’s just me and my mother and my father in this big old house and mom and dad were fast asleep in their bedroom three doors down. I turned my head and looked at the green digital readout of the clock radio. 3:37 AM.

Yes! It was officially Christmas morning.

I realized I was still holding my breath. I let it out slowly and quietly so as not to miss a repeat of those magical bells. Silence for several seconds and then…ting-ting, ting-ting, ting-ting. They were clearly bells and the sound was definitely coming from downstairs. I threw back the covers and hopped out of bed. The hardwood floor was freezing under my bare feet. A pair of socks from yesterday (or possibly last week) was bunched up on top of my dresser. I put them on, defrosting the two blocks of ice that had previously been my feet.

I tip-toed down the hallway, treading lightly past my parent’s room and headed for the stairs. Every creak and groan my feet made on the stairs was made even louder because the house was so quiet at this time of the morning. I was sure my parents could hear every step, and if they could hear it Santa most definitely could too. I managed to make it to the bottom of the stairs without my mother shouting at me from above to get back in bed and wait until a decent hour to open my presents, for God sakes.

The living room was off to the left and through an arch way. I pressed my body against the wall and waited for the bells again. I could smell the Christmas tree we set up in the living room. That lovely fresh, pine scent made me smile. This really was the best time of year; way better then Arbor Day or President’s Day even.

The furnace clicked on in the basement below. The rattling and clanging gave me some cover so I decided to take a quick look into the living room. I was disappointed to see that Santa had gone. Only the presents under the tree and the half drunk glass of milk and partially eaten cookies on the coffee table remained of his visit. Damn noisy stairs, I thought. Someone ought to fix those things.

I walked into the living room to check out the haul this year when the bells suddenly clink-clinked again. I stopped short and turned toward the tree. It looked like it was moving. Yeah, it was moving. The bottom half of the tree was wobbling from side to side.

I was a little sacred because I heard from Frankie Barnes at school that the song Oh Tenenbaum was about a Christmas tree that came alive and attacked a bunch of people in an Austrian village. Although those needles were pretty sharp, I wasn’t too scared. I felt pretty confident that I could fight it off with one of the fire place pokers if worse came to worse. But thankfully that didn’t happen because the bells stopped clinking and the tree stopped moving and a kitten dropped out.

I wondered if Frankie Barnes ever heard the one about the Christmas tree that birthed a cat. That was even weirder then a Christmas tree out for blood because we don’t have any cats. In fact we don’t have any pets at all. I had been asking for over a year to get a puppy but so far I wasn’t having any success.

The kitten didn’t seem to mind the fall, it got up and shook itself off and then stood on its hind legs and swatted at a couple of ornaments that hung from the bottom of the tree. “Hey, kitty,” I said. I walked over to the tree and bent down. “Don’t be scared.” It wasn’t. It was too busy pawing at the ornaments to wonder about me. I picked him (or her) up and only then did I get a mewl of discontent for interrupting the fun. I examined the kitten closer.

From its size I guessed it was maybe 3 or 4 weeks old. It was mostly tan with some splotches of white fur. I stroked the kitty and it purred at me. “What are you doing here, little”--I checked--“guy, huh? Where did you come from?” The kitten didn’t have any answers. I knew I was going to have to figure it out for myself.

I put the kitten down so he could go back to the important business of pawing at the tree. I checked the presents, nothing seemed to be opened. So he wasn’t a Christmas gift. I also didn’t think my parents would be stupid enough to wrap a kitten in a box. Although, I thought, it would be funny to see what he looked like with a bow on his head.

The sound of glass meeting glass startled me. I whipped around and saw milk running over the side of the coffee table, and in the middle of the quickly spreading puddle another kitten was greedily lapping away. “Another one?” I said. I raced over to the coffee table and picked up kitten number two. This kitten had orange fur, not tan and white like its brother. The kitten growled at me. “Relax,” I said. “I don’t even like milk.”

Speaking of which, milk was all over the place: On the table, on the floor, on the kitten. “Oh, look at the mess you made.” I put the kitten down and went to the kitchen to grab some paper towels.

In the kitchen I noticed that the backdoor was open slightly. Winter wind was blowing through the crack between the door and the jam. It didn’t take a genius to figure that this was how the kittens got into the house. It also didn’t take a genius to figure that where there were two kittens there had to be more. I put my boots on and then shrugged into my heavy coat. It was still dark outside so I had to get a flashlight from the junk drawer.

The wind hit me as soon as I got outside. It had to be in the teens for sure, maybe even single digits. My breath frosted in the air and my nose started to run. I aimed the flashlight at the snow-covered ground. I could see two sets of kitten prints in the snow. I tracked the prints to the back shed and then around the side of the shed finally ending at a wheelbarrow we have leaning against a couple of sheets of old plywood. I tipped over the wheelbarrow and then pushed the plywood aside and there in the beam of my flashlight I saw 3 more kittens all huddled together nose to tail to keep themselves warm.

“Hey guys,” I said. One of the kittens looked up, with half-closed eyes and mewled at me. “It’s mighty cold out here. Where’s your momma, huh?” I don’t know why I kept asking these questions. It’s not like I expected one of the kittens to all of a sudden say, “She’s down at the five and dime picking out nipples. She’ll be back soon.”

I used the flashlight to see if there were anymore kittens around. The back of the shed was clear, same thing with the field beyond. “Well, you know what guys,” I said, “if you stay out here much longer you’re gonna freeze.” I opened my coat and slipped all 3 kittens inside. I could feel their little shivering bodies press against my chest. “It’s ok guys, don’t worry, I’ll warm you up,” I said.

Back in the kitchen I took my coat off and wrapped the kittens in it. I took some dish towels from under the sink and tossed them in the microwave. I set the microwave for one minute and waited. I wanted the towels to be warm, but not hot. I hoped one minute wasn’t too long. When the microwave beeped I took the towels out and placed them inside my coat. “That’s much better.” I took the coat-towel-wrapped kittens into the living room and placed them on the sofa. The other two kittens were sleeping together on top of a large box wrapped in green and gold paper. They looked happy.

The coffee table was mostly licked clean, but there was still a wet spot on the carpet. Oh boy I hope that’s milk, I thought. I went to the kitchen for some paper towels, more milk, and a bowl big enough for all the kittens to have a drink. When I got back, the two kittens had moved from their spot on top of the presents to inside the coat with the rest of their siblings. “Who’s hungry?” I asked and this time instead of waiting for an answer I just put the bowl down and poured a helping of milk. The kittens were climbing all over each other to get at the bowl. It was cute.

After a short while the bowl of milk was empty and the kittens were back in the coat were it was warm. I didn’t have anything else to do. My parents wouldn’t be up for a while to open presents, so I passed the time by naming the kittens. The tan and white one that dropped out of the Christmas tree I called Bucket Head because it just seemed to fit him. The orange one who spilled the milk I decided to call Hondo after my dad’s favorite movie. The other three kittens I called Larry, Daryl and Daryl from this old TV show my mom watches.

I laid down on the sofa next to the kittens and listened to them purr. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew mom was saying, “Crispin? Honey, where did these kittens come from?” I opened my eyes and mom was standing there with dad right next to her. I sat up.

“Uh, I found one under the tree and one of them was drinking the Santa milk. The rest I found behind the shed.”

“I wonder who they belong to,” Dad asked.

“I don’t think they belong to anyone,” I said. “I think they’re strays. I found them living under some old boards out back. Their mom was nowhere in sight, she must have run off.”

“Aren’t they cute, Ron?” Mom said to dad. She sat down on the sofa next to me and started stroking the kittens.

“Can I keep them?” I asked.

“Whoa, not so fast,” Dad said. “Five kittens is a lot of responsibility.”

“I can handle it,” I said. “I’m almost 10 years old, for God sakes.”

“Crispin, watch your language.” Mom said.

“Sorry,” I said.

“You were all about a puppy and now you want kittens?” Dad said.

“A kitten is easier. You don’t have to clean up after it, it does it all on its own.”

Mom gave a short laugh. “You say that because you’re not the one who has to empty the litter box.”

“You’re sure about this?” Dad asked.

“Yes,” I said.

Mom and Dad looked at each other. Dad raised his eye brows, and mom nodded. “Wait here,” Dad said.

He walked out of the living room and back up the stairs. I heard a door open and close. I looked at mom. “What’s he doing?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” mom said with a grin.

I heard the door open and the sound of dad’s footsteps coming down the stairs and then another sound that made my heart beat faster. It was the sound of little claws clicking on the steps. Dad came into view holding a leash and at the end of the leash was a Chocolate Lab puppy. My mouth fell open.

“So what you’re saying is you don’t want a puppy?” Dad asked laughing.

He took the leash of the pup and it scrambled across the room and jumped on the sofa in between me and mom. “Oh my God, it’s a puppy,” I said petting it and hugging it but not really believing it.

“I always told you our boy was a genius,” Dad said.

The pup sniffed kittens and they stirred a little but they didn’t seem to mind it. One of the two Daryls actually raised a paw and placed it on the pup’s nose like he was saying hello. “See,” I said. “They get a long great. That whole cats and dogs thing is just talk.”

“Aw, look at him, Ron,” Mom said.

“We can’t make him choose, can we?” Dad said.

“No. I sure couldn’t do it,” Mom said.

“It looks like it’s going to be a full house from now on,” Dad said.

I could have just about burst with happiness.

It was the best Christmas ever.

THE END