[Critique Group 2] Leonard's comments on DeAnna"s sub for Dec

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

cVery nice. 



A take off from a famous song. 



Now we know where all those  scarlet ribbons came from.    



There is nothing I would change. 




 



 


12 20 DeAnna 




 



 


 



Manyyears ago, I was just a kitten living my first life. I was born in summer. Mymother resided in an alley behind a dumpster. There were three of us in thefamily. My brother was an orange tiger striped tabby and my mother a midnightblack child of the streets. I took after her with the addition of a whitetuxedo vest and white forepaws.



 



Latethat fall, as the nights were growing cold, mother told me it was time for meto move out on my own. I had learned to hunt and didn’t need her milk tosurvive. I was hard pressed to keep body and soul together. All of the bestlocales were owned by larger unfriendly cats. I wandered further each day,becoming weaker with hunger.



 



I hadbeen sheltering in some bushes next to the rickety steps of a small rundownhouse, near the edge of town, when a young girl with hair as black as my coatand large blue eyes came down those steps. She looked in my direction. Eventhough I was crouched and kept very still she spotted me. Her face broke into asmile so sunny that it made me feel warm all over. Her voice was soft andgentle.



 



               “You look cold and hungry KitKat. Come here and I will find you something toeat. Mama has gone to work, and then she will go to night school, so you cancome in for a while and get warm.”



Thegirl found me a small bowl and filled it with some leftover beef stew. She placeda cup with a missing handle full of cool water beside the bowl and after I hadcleaned the bowl completely, she placed a small pillow on the sill of a sunnywindow to make me comfortable for a nap. Then she gathered her books andhurried off to school. Late in the afternoon, she returned and heated the restof the stew and mixed some biscuit dough. Although Becca was only about tenyears old, she knew how to prepare simple things. Her mother Ivy came homebriefly to share this plain fare before rushing off to night school.



Beccalifted the pan of golden brown biscuits from the oven and Ivy ladled the stewinto bowls. I was lying quietly on my cushion in the window. Ivy sat down toeat and Becca lifted me and brought me over to place me in her mother’s lap.



 



“Look mama, see how thin she is? I am calling her KitKat, like thecandy bar because she is so sweet. I know we don’t have the money for Christmaspresents, but if we keep her, she can be our present to each other. Ivy lookedinto Becca’s pleading eyes. Her work worn hand stroked my soft fur. That is howI joined Becca and her mother, becoming a part of their family.



 



Timeflew by and a year later, Christmas was again approaching. There was no moneyfor pretty packages for them. Taking me in meant some sacrifices in an alreadytight budget. If they had not added me to their family, I probably would havehad a short hungry first life.



I didmy best to help where I could, catching mice, curling up on Becca’s feet tokeep them warm while she did homework at the kitchen table. I waited up forIvy, and sang a cheerful chirrup to welcome her home each night. I kept Beccacompany while her mother rushed from job to school with only a half hour breakto snatch dinner from cans heated on the stove by Becca. I played silly gamesto make them smile. I followed Ivy when she came from her night school classesto peek in to check on Becca. That was when we heard the end of her bedtimeprayer.



 



“Andfor me, some scarlet ribbons, scarlet ribbons for my hair.” When Ivy hadtiptoed back to the kitchen, I sat on her lap while she tried to get quiet inher heart so she could sleep. Later, when I made my rounds to be sure my peoplewere sleeping, I found Becca breathing softly tucked snugly in her bed. Ivywasn’t doing as well. Her pillow was damp with tears. I curled against her sideand purred her to sleep.



 



I



knewthat Becca’s request was impossible. There was no way Ivy could get thoseribbons. I slipped out the cat door and hurried across town. Only Tasha, queenof cats might be able to help. What price would she accept?



 



Icrept into the old barn where she held court on Christmas Eve. Hundreds of catsgathered there to sing her praises. I waited until the time of supplicationscame. I stepped up and made my request for scarlet ribbons for Becca’s hair.



 



Tasha’sgreen eyes glared down at me. “



Whatwill you give for those ribbons?” she growled.



 



 



I wasthe least of her court, a small black cat born in an alley of no exoticbreeding or importance. I had only one thing I could give.



 



“Ohgreat queen, I offer one of my nine lives. May you live one life beyond yourallotted number and I one less.”



 



Thetrade was made and her minions were sent out to search the town for lengths ofscarlet ribbon. Velvet bows disappeared from wrapped gifts beneath Christmastrees. Satin ribbons were taken from door wreaths. Sewing rooms were searchedfor ribbons left from holiday dressmaking.



 



 



Nearingthe end of my 8th life I have no regrets. The look of amazementon Ivy’s face and the trusting joy on Becca’s when she woke to find her prayerhad been answered was worth the sacrifice. If you wonder why it took asmall black cat to answer a prayer, then you have forgotten that the Lord Godmade us all and can use even the humblest of his creatures to serve hispurpose. Though I never became a Siamese, Himalayan or Persian, I have tried tomake the world a better place for having passed through it. I know I have beenthe best cat I could be and can go to my maker unafraid. Did he not make metoo?



 



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