A Christmas Story

BY SIERRA SHAE GIBS
Interlochen, MI USA

Manger Cat: A Christmas Story

Moonlight poured in through the window in the loft, bathing my fur in
shiny whiteness. The hay around me glowed, rustling as I stretched out
my legs.

I got up, the smell of mice spurring my hunger, and sniffed the air. My
mouth watered as I detected an abundance at the floor of the barn. I
hopped down the ladder-like stairs and trotted toward the large hay
pile.

Little scratching noises were coming from a newer-looking heap, the
seeds still clinging to the stalks - which would explain the abundance
of vermin. I caught sight of one and was about to leap but halted in my
tracks as I heard voices outside the barn. Reluctantly, I turned away
from my meal-to-be and peeked out the open door.

I'm very sorry," said the innkeeper, "but this is all I can offer." He
was talking to a desperate looking couple. The man had an anxious
wrinkle in his forehead, and his jaws were square and tight. A few wisps
of brown hair dangled around his face.

Do you have some blankets to spare?" asked the woman. The man wrapped
his arm more tightly around her shoulders. Her pale face was luminous
against her coal black hair which tumbled down her back in waves. She
was heavily pregnant.

Yes, I'll get some. But first, let me take your donkey. I'll be back in
a minute." He grabbed the lead rope from the man and lead the stead into
the barn through a stable door.

The couple trudged toward the barn door, and I pulled my head back in
and hid behind an empty wooden trough. They came inside and the man led
his wife to sit on the pile of new hay.

Are you alright?" he asked.

Yes, I'm fine," she sighed, "just tired, that's all."

I perked up my ears as the sound of nibbling mice faded. I could hear
them scurry to the older hay piles not being used as a seat.
The man stroked the woman's bulging stomach gently. The woman looked up
at him with admiring green eyes. He kissed her cheek and whispered,
"Little Jesus is moving."

Joseph, help me up," the woman said. He pulled her up while supporting
her back, and the innkeeper spread the blankets over the pile of hay,
setting water and bread on a shelf nearby. Joseph laid her back down on
the makeshift bed.

The innkeeper said, "It's the least I can do," and left the barn. I decided these people were safe and stepped from behind the food trough.

"Look, Mary, a cat," Joseph said. Feeling welcome, I trotted over to him.
He stroked my head and I purred automatically. He picked me up with his
firm hands and cradled me like a child. Mary rubbed my belly and
scratched my chin, running her gentle fingers through my striped orange
fur. I wasn't used to this kind of attention, but it was strangely
satisfying.

"His fur is so soft!" Mary exclaimed. That surprised me a little. I mean,
sure, I knew how to keep myself tidy, but I wasn't expecting a
compliment. My purring became significantly louder and I pawed the air.

Then Mary smiled and said to Joseph, "Could you get me some water?"
Joseph set me down on the bed next to Mary's belly as he reached for the
pitcher and pulled out the ladle, full of fresh water. Mary drank
thirstily and was quickly asking for more.

Meanwhile, I rubbed my whiskers against her stomach. The baby inside put
his hand against my cheek and a peaceful feeling swelled up in my chest
as realization hit. This was the Holy Child. The Son of God. The reason
a certain star above the loft was shining so blindingly bright.
I licked the bump where his hand was pressed, through the cloth and
through the skin. I would get to witness the birth, the first few hours,
the prophesied coming of baby Jesus.