Winter Solstice 2011 (from Nyala)

Winter Solstice 2011 (from Nyala) - a reading by Karen Morgan

My name is Nyala. I'm a familiar. This year, I turned three. I'm the youngest in a long line sent by Bast to watch over my mom-cat and dad-cat, and keep them out of trouble.

My dad-cat doesn't let me play with the computer. But he's not watching me right now. I paw the keyboard when I want to be petted or when he's not looking anyway. He doesn't know I've learned to stalk words with my eyes, at least a little. My Auntie Mara and the spirit of my Great-Auntie Felicia are helping me with the hard ones. The spirit of my Great-Uncle Smoker says he knows a spell to make sure this message gets out. He found it in Great-Uncle Thomas's spellbook. Great-Uncle Thomas was a wizard and Great-Uncle Smoker was a sorcerer. I know where they hid the spellbook, but I can't tell or Auntie Mara will find out.

Tonight, mom-cat and dad-cat get to see some of our world. Their eyes aren't very good most nights. They can't really see in the dark. They trip over me and Auntie Mara all the time even though they should be able to see us. We can see them when we lay down and roll on our backs in front of them. It's not like it's really dark.

Tonight, they light little fires all around the house. They try to keep them out of our reach, but me and Auntie Mara jump up when they aren't looking. They scold us when we do, but we're curious. We just want to see. I don't like the little fires anyway. They smell hot and bitter, and sometimes bite my nose and whiskers. Fire is scary, even little ones. But I like the dancing shadows. And they make the perfect light for hunting, not that mom-cat or dad-cat really do. I don't know how they feed themselves. Mom-cat leaves to hunt every day, but she never comes back with anything. Dad-cat just guards our territory while she's gone. He leaves us alone for a few hours once a week to hunt with mom-cat. He must be a better hunter because they always comes back with butter and something good for us for breakfast when he goes with her. I like butter and breakfast.

Mom-cat and dad-cat don't light the cold little suns tonight, or watch the glowing box where the birds and bears and little balls live inside. Sometimes it calls my name, at least the name the humans call me. They can't pronounce my real name. But Bast says I need to keep that a secret anyway. I'm good at keeping secrets.

I like the light tonight. It makes me want to run around and chase Auntie Mara. Or pretend to sleep even though I'm watching everything through slitted eyes. It's like a whole night's worth of twilight when we hunt the best. Nothing can see us but we can see everything and pounce on it if we like. But Auntie Mara gets mad when I pounce on her too often.

This is my third time seeing the special night. A cat's night. Bast-mas is what mom-cat sometimes calls it, I think. Our night. The first time, I was only a little kitten, so mom-cat and dad-cat watched me extra close so I couldn't get into trouble. In a few days, we get presents: boxes, bags, wrapping paper and ribbons. But I can't keep the ribbons for long. Auntie Mara likes to eat them which makes mom-cat and dad-cat mad. I like swatting balls of paper around. Auntie Mara says they're too pretty, but she plays with them when I'm not looking. They are almost as much fun as hard, dangling, sparkly balls, or stalking Auntie Mara while I hide beneath the plastic tree. I like to gnaw on its branches. I wish it tasted like a real tree, but it doesn't. Still, it's almost like being outside only safe. Auntie Mara likes sitting in the boxes and bags, but all she does is purr, and get mad when I jump in with her.

We also get feathers and acorns and juice-rings and rattle-sticks, and a few leaves of fresh catnip. Mom-cat says they come from Basty-claws, but I know it's really her and dad-cat. Basty-claws is just for little kittens.

But that doesn't happen for a few more days. It's a busy morning with all sorts of new scents, but it's kind of scary too with all the new things I don't recognize, at least until I've rubbed them or swatted them a few times. After that, most of them are boring.

Tonight is never boring. Mom-cat and dad-cat sit a lot, so we get to curl up in their laps. They drink their stinky wine that smells sweet, like a mouse left under the couch too long. I think they should just drink water. I like it best when it's fresh, right after I paw my bowl until it gurgles at me. They mixed up more stinky wine and put it in the pantry closet today. It smells like something died in there until it finally stops farting in a few weeks. I like the funny noise it makes but not the smell. Ew.

Sometimes they light a bigger fire on the table on the porch after sunset. I like the porch. That's where Auntie Mara and I watch the squirrels and birds and smell all the interesting scents outside when the wind is blowing. I just wish the dogs next door would go away. They are so noisy and scare me all the time. Auntie Mara says to just ignore them. Sometimes I listen to her. She's pretty smart about what to growl at and what to run away from. Sometimes both. She doesn't run from the yappy dogs, just any people or growly trucks she hears. But she doesn't run from the rug-growler so I don't know if I really trust her.

By the time they go to bed, mom-cat and dad-cat are so relaxed and happy that I expect them to start purring. Mom-cat doesn't purr at all. Sometimes dad-cat tries but he never gets it right. I purr back at him anyway. Maybe one day he'll learn how it's done. I don't think so. He's not very smart. Tonight, I curl up with them, and don't even ask them to play with my feather-stick until I'm tired.

Later, when mom-cat and dad-cat are asleep, I'll creep down off the bed to watch the one little fire they leave hanging out of reach. It burns all night and throws tiny shadows all around our bowls. They look like little faeries flying around the room. I think that's the part I like the best. It's magical. It lets mom-cat and dad-cat see what we see every day, a hidden world. They sleep so peaceful this night, like cats curled up by a fire. I like to see them happy. Maybe they know that me and Auntie Mara are watching over them.

Auntie Mara says dad-cat is coming so I have to finish up quick. I was about out of things to say anyway. Making words is hard.

Enjoy your little fires tonight if you light them (but you can keep your stinky wine). Stay warm and catnap curled up next to someone you like if you can. If not your mom-cat or dad-cat at least a favorite auntie if she lets you like mine does until I bite her. But don't sniff too close to the little fires or they might singe your whiskers.

© 2011 Edward P. Morgan III