An (Orange and) White Christmas

by Marmalade and "Brains and Spirit"

Good Day. I trust you all had a pleasant celebration of whatever holiday agrees with you. May I offer you a brief account of how I, Marmalade, gentleman cat at large, spent Christmas in the Holmes-Russell household?

On Christmas Eve my assistant, Mrs. Hudson, interrupted her labors in the kitchen to enter the main room of our cottage and address the (putative) Master of the household.

"Mr. Holmes," she asked tentatively, "shouldn't Miss Mary be here by now? I know she said she was detained at Oxford, but she telephoned before dinner. It's full dark and getting later..."

"Russell will arrive when she chooses, Mrs. Hudson" snapped Mr. Holmes. Neither you nor I, nor, I daresay, the Almighty has the least control over her actions."

"But sir, it's begun to snow," Mrs. Hudson persisted.

Mr. Holmes rose and looked out the window. "So it has," he answered. "Never fear, Mrs. Hudson, Russell has doubtless remained at Oxford for the night. We shall no doubt see her in the morning. However, if it would relieve your mind, I shall telephone to ascertain that she is still there."

But when he lifted the receiver, we found that our exchange was out and no connexion could be made. Mrs. Hudson positively wrung her hands. "I don't like it, sir," she said. "What if Miss Mary is out in that?"

I have seldom seen Mrs. Hudson so perturbed, not even over the unfortunate accident with the souffle. (I didn't realise that jumping off the kitchen chair would cause it to fall. It was not my fault. Truly) Both Mr. Holmes and myself made haste to reassure her, he with reasoned words and me by rubbing her legs, until she retreated to the kitchen, somewhat mollified. I felt that my assistant would be in need of my supervision and support if she was to complete her preparations for our Christmas dinner on the morrow, so I joined her in the kitchen while she worked.

I therefore did not see Mr. Holmes again until my assistant had retired with his assurance that he would notify her immediately he heard from Miss Russell. I found the intervening hours had not been kind to Mr. Holmes. In fact had he possessed a tail, I am sure he would have been lashing it. He prowled the main room of our cottage, smoking furiously, picking things up and putting them down at random. He occasionally interrupted his pacing to shoot a baleful glance at the inoffensive telephone, and once or twice lifted the receiver, then put it down impatiently. Clearly, we were still cut off. Finally he took out his violin, and sat down in my basket chair by the fire, where he beguiled us both by playing several airs. I could have sworn I recognised a few bars of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen," but cats, although I blush to confess it, are poor judges of this sort of thing, so I cannot be positive. As for me, I washed my paws and ensconced myself in the window seat, near the observation hive with its now quiescent bees. This was ideal for my purposes, as I could observe Mr. Holmes carefully and at the same time remain alert for any sounds from outside that might portend the arrival of Miss Russell.

Mr. Holmes at length decided it was time to retire. After he knocked out his pipe and banked the fire, I followed him up the stairs. He stopped by the linen-press in the hall and withdrew a blanket. "You know, old chap," he addressed me, "it's a damned poor show when, instead of the comfort of one's lovely young wife, one is forced to depend for warmth on extra blankets and the persistently offered company of the cat." However, he did not seem displeased when I followed him into the bedroom and alighted by his feet. Soon the silence was broken only by my purrs and Mr. Holmes' quiet breathing. I do not, however, think he was asleep, as not even the gentlest snore emanated from under the covers.

I had begun to doze when the growl of a motor car reached my ear, followed by the whisper of a key in the lock and the faint thud of footsteps ascending the stairs. Mr. Holmes sat bolt upright at this, then propped a pillow behind his back, folded his arms, and fixed the opening bedroom door with an icy glare. I thought the mistress of the household deserved a warmer welcome, but my opinion had not been asked, so I tucked my paws against my chest and awaited events.

"Holmes," called Miss Russell softly, "are you awake?"

"I am now, Russell," he answered with some asperity.

"I am sorry, Holmes, but the Morris blew a tyre about halfway here. Since no garages are open on Christmas Eve, I had to change it myself. It took awhile, particularly after it started snowing." She seemed to shudder.

"One is far more likely to find an open garage if one sets out in a timely manner, Russell," observed Mr. Holmes.

Miss Russell sighed. "No doubt you are right, Holmes. However, I am filthy, I reek of petrol, and I propose to bathe now." She withdrew her head and headed down the hall.

I followed Miss Russell to the bath, to make sure that she had an adequate supply of soap and towels, and remained outside the door until the sounds within indicated that she was bathing. I thereupon concluded that my presence was required elsewhere and resumed my post at Mr. Holmes' feet. Mr. Holmes kindly obliged me with an ear scratch. Then he selected a book from the stack by the bed and lay on his side pretending to read it. He affected such absorption that he took no apparent notice when Miss Russell, clean, fragrant, and attired in a rather becoming night dress, entered the room.

Miss Russell at times demonstrates an almost feline perspicuity. She uttered no word to her irritated husband, and ignored the back he determinedly presented to her. Instead, she perched herself on the edge of the bed, and proceeded to unpin the damp tendrils of her hair. Then she took the brush from her dressing table and began to groom it. It was indeed a fascinating sight as the brush moved slowly though that glowing cloud, laying it in shining strands that reached the entire length of her back. I myself was moved to raise an interested paw.

Mr. Holmes again appeared not to notice this. I, however, was not a whit deceived. He had an excellent view of Miss Russell's reflection in the looking-glass, and he could not take his eyes off her. At length, when she had finished, Miss Russell moved toward the head of the bed and addressed its occupant.

"Holmes," she said."I am tired and cold, and if I sleep alone in the guest room, my dreams will be vile. Will you let me in bed?"

At this Mr. Holmes turned over and regarded his wife. "You could persuade me, Russell. " he answered. "You could persuade me."

"Indeed?" said Miss Russell, and leaned down toward Mr. Holmes. His hand reached up to wrap itself in her hair.

"Like honey in the comb," he said softly, and lowered her head close to his.

"Happy Christmas, Holmes."

"Mazel Tov, Russell."

I am an amiable cat. I am a benevolent cat. I am a most forgiving cat. However, although Miss Russell's hair obscured my view, through sad experience I have come to recognise the preliminaries to a sort of undignified cavorting that I must deem most unsuitable for a man of his years and a woman of her intellect. Accordingly, I chose to absent myself, with a minor assist from Mr. Holmes. (Mr. Holmes, I must add, has a most unfortunate streak of pawky humour at these times. "I'm sorry old man, but two's company and three's the cat, don't you know?" is hardly the way for one gentleman to address another.)

But all was not lost. I betook myself to the kitchen, where I found that my assistant, Mrs. Hudson, had once again thoughtfully provided for my needs. There was with a saucer of minced giblets from the goose, moistened with a bit of most appetising broth, placed near my bed by the stove. I lost no time in demonstrating my appreciation for the good lady's efforts. As I settled in for my long winter's nap, I reflected that it had turned out to be an unexpectedly pleasant Christmas Eve. And thanks to my stringent supervision, the next day's roast goose was superb, as well.

I was a very contented individual, in fact, until Boxing Day, when Dr. Watson arrived with the puppy.