Tag Archives: kitten

A Festive Feline Tale

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By Rachel H Grant

Snow slowly fell from a dark winter sky like a huge white flower star shedding its petals. Magic hissed in the air. It was a night of potential, a hundred different stories flowering like new stars in the still sky. It was the night before Christmas …

A black cat walked through the dusting of snow, her eyes shining like lanterns. A catflap loomed ahead. The little cat began to purr, the sound of a million “have a nice day”s turned in to a song, the sound of feline miracles.

A black cat with green eyes with her paw reaching out to a green bauble
Image by iPicture from Pixabay

Yvonne came home from work to find a black cat in front of her fireplace. “Oh well, just as you are here …” Yvonne lit a fire and nursed a hot chocolate as the cat purred. “Have you a home?” wondered Yvonne. “You can stay here tonight, I wouldn’t put you out on this cold evening.”

Christmas Day dawned like a cat waking from a deep sleep, light gradually seeping in to the day as if too tired to wake up.

Yvonne stretched in bed. Christmas Day! And her first ever all on her own.

Downstairs, a Christmas miracle purred like the beginning of a happy ever after story. The black cat was gone as silently as she had appeared. In her place, there lay a small white kitten. Yvonne’s heart beat with an instant connection. The kitten became her cherished companion, a Christmas wish fallen from the stars above.

Next Christmas came round like a stone of destiny toppled by a line of dominoes. Gemma was stunned to find a black cat in her sitting-room on Christmas Eve, curled up before the wood stove as though she had always belonged here. Gemma’s heart melted as she lit the fire. A cat for Christmas, this was what she needed after a difficult year.

In the morning, the black cat was gone. In her place, a white kitten. “I will call you Snowfall,” whispered Gemma, a Christmas dream erupting like a shooting star in her heart.

The next Christmas Eve, Nina arrived home to find a black cat sleeping under a radiator. However, Nina worked for a local cat rescue and had five cats already. One phonecall later, the mystery black cat was en route to the cat shelter.

On Christmas Day, two volunteers arrived at the cat shelter. The new black cat arrival, Festive Fiona, was curled up asleep in her little bed. Next to her, was a pure white kitten.

April and Jasmine looked at each other, a knowing smile in their eyes. “So which one do you want?” It was a Christmas wish come true for Fiona and the surprise kitten, the first day in what would be their new homes.

Fiona slept in front of the fire that night, a Christmas purr in her chest. It was a forever home. She never strayed again, and no more impossible white kittens appeared in her wake.

Until the day she died one Christmas Eve many years later. April cried herself to sleep that night. In the morning, there was a white kitten in front of the fireplace. The kitten opened its eyes and purred. April’s tears flowed as a smile fingered her face. “I will call you Christmas Chloe.” For each time a cat leaves your life, it sends another in its place, a hello from heaven that will never leave your side.

A white kitten with blue eyes among pink and white baubles
Image by MsKuhn from Pixabay

So this Christmas, believe in feline magic and let festive miracles light your way. Look up to the stars, hear their secret song, and dream of white kittens and so so much more …. Merry Christmas, may an enchanted black cat cross your path and grant you wonders, and may 2026 deliver all your deepest wishes and more.

Pawprint Poems

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Autumn the tortoiseshell cat nursed three kittens, her glowing fur like autumn leaves on fire. Between her paws, the kittens were a picture postcard of stunning autumn leaf ginger. Born in late September, they breathed beauty like autumn leaves lilting in the wind.

A ginger kitten with wide grey and green eyes lying on a floor
Image by Ari_Bady from Pixabay

Ash, Rowan and Sycamore played among the leaves in the garden, autumn poetry in motion. Passersby would stop and stare, bewitched by the feline antics before them. Then at home they would sit still for a moment, inspiration like a cat’s paw patting their head. And words ran together like leaves lifting in the breeze. Little by little, the whole village were writing poems about autumn leaves.

Autumn’s owners were not immune. Jim and Sally sat together with notebooks in their hands and a storm of leaves inside. Poetry blew on the wind as the village beat to whispers of wonder.

Sally organised a poetry group, only to find her sitting room overrun such was the uptake. Everyone was writing poetry. Sally decided they would self-publish a collection. Autumn Leaves was ready by the end of the season.

As the kittens grew older and larger, the poetry did not stop, it only intensified. Leaves rustled underfoot as the villagers tried to sell their book of poetry. Meanwhile word spread like poetry seeds on the wind. People from all over the region came to the village, eager to pass the garden with the beautiful young cats, and to buy the book with its vibrant verses that bewitched the mind.

And little by little, the wider region began to write poetry. Letters to the editor of every local paper were filled with poems. Then the poetry reached the national papers too.

Sally set up a blog to celebrate autumn-themed poetry, complete with pictures of her growing kittens. Readers the world over were suddenly inspired to write poetry. And a renewed appreciation of autumn leaves painted its poem of hope everywhere, beauty turned to words that would last forever.

The kittens grew in to large and handsome cats. Everywhere they roamed, they spread wonder like a virus to vanquish sadness, a poem of purrs that would not be denied. And in their wake, stray autumn leaves danced like messengers from above. And the message was … poetry.

A love of poetry captured the hearts of the world. Everyone was writing poetry and even more were reading it. Poetry pamphlets became bestsellers, much to the astonishment of their authors. It was a revolution of the written word … and as poetry spread across the world, peace followed in its wake, like an autumn wish come true.

Three ginger cats played together in their garden, like autumn leaves they spun to music only they could hear. Their purr was a poem on the air, a ballet of beauty designed to delight. Whiskers and words intertwined to form autumn art. Like poems drifting on the wind, their nine lives were only just beginning … For when you find the perfect poem, it will never leave you. And autumn will arrive again, like a cat’s magic that lasts forever, the leaves of yesterday blowing to a tender tomorrow of dreams come true.

A ginger kitten with long white whiskers among leaves of a bush or tree
Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay

Snowflake Kitten

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By Rachel H Grant

The fire crackled like an old crone, welcoming Christmas like a long-lost friend.

A white kitten stretched out on the red rug, purring in a warm bath of bliss. Her new home was a Christmas dream come true. The runt of the litter, no one wanted her, until a small child’s hands picked her up and a tiny voice whispered, “This is all I want for Christmas.”

white kitten lying on its back with big amber eyes
Image by Pexels from Pixabay

On her third night in the new house, the first snowflakes of winter kissed the land. Luna looked out the window longingly. When the father arrived home, she shot out the front door like a snowball on attack. Christmas cheer lit her heart, as snow froze her feet. She ran and ran through the snowflakes, until she became lost.

Luna never saw the house again. Until twenty years later …

**

Harry and Hetty giggled as they played hide and seek in their new house. A bedroom each, stairs to chase each other down … and numerous corners to hide in. It was a Christmas wish come true.

Meanwhile, Mum finished decorating the tree. “Children! Come and see!” she called.

They surveyed a Christmas carol in frozen motion, a dream of delight purring in their head like a happy cat. Then Mum lit the fire, and they settled on the hearth to play Christmas card games.

They did not see the baubles move on the tree, as though a kitten were playing with them. They did not notice the kitten prints on the windows, as a stray soul regarded the snowflakes outside. Little did they know, that they were not alone.

Luna slept that night on Hetty’s bed. The child turned over in her sleep, instinctively moving a hand towards the tiny unseen indent on the duvet. Then sweet dreams of white Christmas kittens stirred in her soul.

Luna wandered the house unseen. She was back, with a new family. Her dream had come true. She was home.

“I would love a kitten for Christmas,” confided Hetty to her Dad. “It would be a Christmas wish in fur, it would make me so happy.”

“Santa doesn’t deliver kittens,” said Dad with a twinkle in his eye.

Christmas Day dawned like a new winter future, a herald to happier days.  Hetty and Harry ran down the stairs like racing horses on a track, magic misting their eyes. Then they saw her.

A white kitten.

“It looks like Santa does believe in kittens after all,” said Dad merrily.

The children played all day with the new arrival, happiness like moving shadows around them, while Luna the real shadow purred with quiet joy at a new friend. Klaus the kitten could see Luna, and telepathically talk with her. They were friends in no time.

That night, a large white cat appeared on the stairs, a red hat on her head. She found Klaus and her shadow Luna.

“I have come to take you to a new Christmas house,” she gently told Luna. “There is a new kitten here now and it is your time, a playful paradise awaits. Leave Klaus to the humans here, come with me now … “

Luna meowed silently. “I love it here. It is my home.”

“No, it is Klaus’ home. However there is a fireplace in my world just for you.”

So Luna quietly followed the white cat up the stairs, as a portal of white light opened above them. “It looks like a large snowflake,” thought Luna wistfully.

Then they were there, in a large house with a grand sitting-room, and a festive fire in ferocious glory. And there were other cats too … why, it was her mother and her siblings! Luna ran to greet them, a melting meow of love in her heart.

The large white cat silently left.

“Where are we?” asked Luna.

“We are in the land of feline dreams,” confided her mother. “We are in the happy ending that we all deserve. However, one day, if you choose, you can be born again and return. Or simply stay here … it is so nice, a dream of paradise that can never end.”

Luna rubbed around her mum, and curled in to her body as she fell asleep. And in her dreams, a hundred fireplaces burned, happy cats in front of them all.

However, the day came when she dreamt once more of the children in her old and real house. How she wished to return … snowflakes hung in her heart like a frozen dream waiting to melt.

A year later, Hetty and Harry again awoke on Christmas morning with excitement etched on their faces like indelible glee. They raced downstairs. Klaus met them, a knowing smile in his eyes. He ran to the front door, scratching frantically, maniac meows in his throat.

Harry laughed. “Ok Klaus, out you go.” He opened the door, staring in Christmas sparkled surprise.

A white kitten trembled in the snow. Harry swept her in to his arms, while the kitten purred, eyes shimmering with Christmas fire.

Hetty rushed up. “Another white kitten! It is my Christmas dream come true!”

Their parents did try to find the kitten’s home, but none emerged. “Let’s call her Snowflake,” said Hetty. “Because she has flown in to our lives like a snowflake from heaven.”

Little did they know, that the white kitten had lived before. Little did they know, that they were her Christmas wish come true. However somewhere in their hearts, the children did understand that cats have nine lives.

Hetty, Harry, Klaus and Snowflake became inseparable friends. As January blizzards battered the house, they lay by the fire, encased in the poem of purrs.

For every cat deserves a second chance, a new home that saves them from the cold. May all your Christmases be filled with the wonder and joy of a festive kitten, and may the purrs of happiness soothe your mind forever. And may all snowflakes find their way home.

Two white kittens sitting on wood, one is double the size of the other
Image by Veronica Kaiser from Pixabay

Feather Friends

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By Rachel H Grant

The sun sparkled like a precious jewel in the sky. A feather landed at the chip shop door, a tiny hello from heaven. The sea shushed weary woes, seagulls playing in its waves like children who knew tomorrow, living for the unwinding wonder of today. Seagull cries punctuated the peace all around, a song of the soul.

a seagull on a seashore with white topped waves behind it
Image by Gosia K. from Pixabay

Tommy hid behind a bin. The heat brushed his grey and white fur like a rough feather. His ten-week-old heart drummed inside. His shining kitten eyes saw so much … yet understood so little.

One thing however he did understand, a feather flying in between his thoughts, impossible to brush away.

He was lost.

a grey and white kitten with a white chest in a bush
Image by Didier from Pixabay

A family had taken him to their home, where he had chased a ball to their cries of delight, and learnt to purr on demand. Then he found the open window and a new game! Tommy had not been prepared for the noise of the outside world. At first he ran and ran, until he realised the noise was everywhere. And he was suddenly nowhere, home a mirage on a distant horizon. Fear frolicked in his heart like a feather in freefall.

Hunger tickled his stomach, a teasing feather. Then he heard it. Like a poem of feathers, or the hymn of your heart, a cry that spoke to you, louder than a cat mother’s purr but just as soothing …

The seagull cried again. Tommy ventured out from behind the bin. The bird above regarded him with eyes like black suns.

Then the bird dropped down, cawing gently, feathers shining in the sun. Tommy closed his eyes and purred, a fearful feather in his throat.

“I am Sam,” said the bird in his head. “You look hungry. Follow me.”

The bird flew above as Tommy walked timidly down the street, his heart crying like a seagull in a storm.

Then one of Sam’s feathers fell at his feet, a white portent of purrs to come. Tommy collected it in his mouth, comforted by its sun-kissed beauty.

Seagull Sam landed on top of a small building with tables outside. If Tommy were able to read the sign, he would know that this was Feather Fish and Chips Takeaway and Café. His nostrils were tickled by the smell of fish, an alluring aroma that gave him the confidence to edge ever closer to the open door …

“What a cute kitten!” The words scratched his ears like tiny feathers. “Here, Smoky, have some fish!”

Tommy could not believe it, food for his somersaulting stomach. Sam flew down and joined him. “You’ll likely get food every day,” he advised. “This is THE place to hang out, trust me.”

So a seagull and a kitten came to spend days together at the fish and chip shop, two stray feathers brought together by a winning wind.

Most of the chip shop customers incorrectly concluded that the kitten belonged to its owners; this did not stop them taking multiple photographs. Images of a kitten sleeping against a seagull went viral on social media, gaining national attention. Hashtag FeatherPair trended on all platforms.

It did not take long for Tommy’s adopted family to see the photographs. Mrs Finch stormed to the chip shop, how dare they steal her kitten? Tommy was thrust in to a cat carrier, like a feather torn from a bird. He cried piteously, a feather thrown to the skies by a winter wind.

Then he was back home. Tommy spied Sam in the garden. He had followed them! Perhaps it was good to be back … now that Sam was here too.

Sam tapped at the window. Tommy leapt up to the windowsill, desperate to include his friend in his happy homecoming.

Mrs Finch however had other ideas. No seagull was welcome in her garden! She ran outside brandishing a pan, banging it with a spoon. “Begone!” she cried, dark feathers falling from her eyes.

Seagull Sam flew to a neighbouring house rooftop, sad but unsurprised by Mrs Finch’s reaction to him. Tommy was horrified. Taking a fleeting chance like a feather in the wind, he dashed out of the open door, and raced down the street. Sam flew above him. Eventually, they stopped next to a different fish and chip shop.

“We are safe now,” said Sam.

“I never wish to lose you,” confided Tommy with feather tears in his eyes.

And so Tommy and Sam wandered from chip shop to chip shop, never staying in one place too long. Tommy jumped in vans and Sam followed, town after town, village after village, they flew along the coast like feathers on the wind.

And like two feathers, they knew they would drift forever. Life was a feather too soon gone … life was for being together. The feather of fate sung in the seagull’s haunting cry, and the kitten’s mysterious meow. And the feathers of the future beckoned them ever onwards, the sun of all their tomorrows shining bright in their hearts.

Mistletoe Mittens

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By Rachel H Grant

Wendy loved the woodland walks surrounding her home village. A Christmas chill hung in the air and fairy frost glistened on the leaves today. Her feet crunched on the winter white path. There it was. The mistletoe tree. She did not know whose idea it had been to hang mistletoe there. Perhaps a village kid, at least she imagined it was young people who came here hoping for some festive flirtation.

So she stopped beneath the tree, a smile licking her lips like a cat with cream. It was better after all to smile than to cry. Husband Neville had escaped the fabric of their life, tearing it to shreds as he ran. The hole in her heart still felt wide open, a year later. A wound that was infected with rage. What had she done wrong? She would never know.

The leaves whispered beneath her feet. Wendy looked down, to see two emerald green eyes looking up at her.

It was a black and white kitten with white mitten paws.

A remedy for a broken heart, a festive spell of feline fun.

a black cat with orange eyes in a snowy wood
Image by QuinnBrak from Pixabay

The kitten should not be alone in the woods on this cold day, he or she looked merely a few weeks old. So with no hesitation, Wendy picked the kitten up and returned home. Her long auburn hair fell over his black and white fur, and the happy little cat clawed at it playfully.

She would call him Mistletoe Mittens.

Back at home, she poured a dish of milk. The kitten drank with a soldier’s thirst; what battles of mere survival had he endured?

Wendy shut him in the kitchen as she hurried to the village shop to buy kitten food. While there, she relayed her story to the bored looking cashier, who woke up momentarily to place a found cat advert on the noticeboard. Someone must be missing the little kitten.

It was the Christmas holidays, so Wendy’s vacation became a playcation, catch and chase, hide and seek and find the Christmas tree bauble. Mittens was such fun, she hoped so much no one would claim him.

Kitten footprints zigzagged her heart. Whiskers whispered in her soul. Life was lighter, her heart now full of kitten kinship.

No one responded to the village shop advert. Reluctantly, Wendy posted on a local pet owners’ Facebook group. Derek from the next village replied.  His Facebook photo depicted a grinning ginger haired pixie face. Wendy liked him immediately.

Last Christmas, Derek had lost a black and white kitten. However, obviously it could not be the same cat. Wendy chatted to Derek on Messenger, an alien taking over her body as she typed; this was so unlike her, to open up to a stranger.

Then they met, Mittens rubbing his feline seal of approval on Derek’s legs. They talked and talked. Love blossomed in Wendy’s heart, a stray seed blown there by winds of crazy cat coincidence.

Derek marvelled at how similar Mittens looked to his own kitten, a surprise Christmas present from his then girlfriend the year before.

Weeks marched in to months. Derek, Wendy and Mittens became one extended feline family. Wendy had never been happier, until the day Derek proposed. Then joy like no other licked her heart, a hungry kitten inside.

However sadness cast a shadow on her house. Mistletoe Mittens disappeared that same day.

Wendy advertised her missing cat everywhere, the local shop, Facebook, local cat charities. No response.

Months toppled like dominoes. Mittens never returned.

Derek and Wendy were married under the mistletoe tree, the wedding ring encasing her finger like a fairy hug. The pawprints on her heart had faded, but would never disappear completely.

Years passed, their happy smiles painting wrinkles on their faces. The pawprints on Wendy’s heart were hidden somewhere under the sands of time, vulnerable to the winds of winter.

And winter pounced on Wendy’s heart the day Derek died. They had enjoyed decades together. She wept tears of love and sorrow, intertwined like the colours on a black and white cat.

Wendy walked in the snow-licked woods nursing her mute memories, tears quiet on her cheeks.

Then she saw it. The mistletoe tree.

With a smile chasing away the tears, Wendy touched the soft bark and sighed. She closed her eyes.

When she reopened them, her heart fluttered as its buried pawprints were revealed.

A black and white kitten regarded her timidly.

The sun shone in her smile, as Wendy picked up the kitten and said, “Mischief.” Love laced her blood with warmth, and her heart beat to a forgotten music of meows.

Mischief became her shadow, as real pawprints tiptoed around her house. A feline friend to cherish, a confidante to all her best memories.

That Christmas Eve, a young girl and boy kissed under the mistletoe in the woods. Magic was in the air. Unseen, a large cat watched the young couple, then quietly slipped away, pawprints in the snow.

Wendy woke on Christmas Day to the sound of purring. Mischief crawled in to her arms. A smile rose in her heart like a sun dawning on a better tomorrow.

The mistletoe in the woods danced in the wind. Pawprints appeared in the snow beneath. The trees stood witness to Christmas magic, secrets unspoken in their quiet hearts. The wind hushed. A shadow crept under the trees, then was gone.

the silhouette of a black cat against a backdrop of trees and a moonlit sky
Image by Briam Cute from Pixabay

Snowdrop Kitten

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Neville turned over in bed, his twelve year old brain spinning like an unoiled wheel. It was the dream again, the one where he painted a picture. He remembered the fun of mixing the paint, and the brush licking the canvas like a cat with cream … then the memory blurred, concealed behind a padlock in his mind.

Neville hated school, the thought of mixing with so many uncaring peers an unwelcome taste in his mouth each morning. Sometimes he skipped school, hanging out in the local park. The snowdrops there soothed his soul, tiny white stars of hope. A song stuttered in his heart, its words forgotten, dying somewhere deep inside.

Today, he noticed for the first time the snowdrops in his own garden, under the lone tree he loved to climb in the summer. White flowers nodded in the wind, sighing for spring. But what was that amongst them? A large white shape … he approached, and then gasped in joy. A pure white kitten lay in the flowers, wide eyed and shivering.

Their eyes met, and Neville read the small animal’s angst, a knife piercing his heart as he scooped her in to his arms.

a white kitten among trees
Image by Susann Mielke from Pixabay

Snowdrop became his cat. His mother advertised her locally and on social media, but much to Neville’s delight no owner came forward. Like a snowdrop petal on the wind, she had flown in to his life, a flower tonic for his heart.

Neville recalled his dream. He bought a canvas and began to paint. Joy seeded in his heart like a spring flower. Slowly, Snowdrop the kitten among the snowdrops took shape beneath his hands. A smile unfurled on his face like a snowdrop in the sun.

Eventually, Snowdrop’s portrait was complete. His mother enlisted it in a local art exhibition. Neville shivered in anticipation, fear and delight battling in his heart, his hands shaking like snowdrops in a spring breeze.

To Neville’s surprise satisfaction, his painting sold on the first day of the exhibition. Eighty year old Geoffrey placed his new piece of art above his fireplace. He gazed at the slim feline in the picture, and thought of his late wife. She had adored cats. He had not replaced the final feline to pass away. Without his wife, there was no joy in caring for pets.

However, the painting helped him feel close to her again. He smiled, then fell in to a dreamless sleep in front of his fire. He woke at midnight, confused. Where was he? Clumsily, he climbed the stairs to his bed.

In the morning, Geoffrey rose and as was his custom flung open the curtains, gazing at his forlorn uncared for garden. Snowdrops danced in the morning breeze. However there was something among them. Was it … a kitten?

Geoffrey ventured outside in his dressing gown. A small feline meowed, looking at him with deep emerald eyes.

Loved lanced his heart, a feeling he had not encountered for years. He did not even try to find an owner, the kitten was his. Geoffrey’s days bounced with meaning again, like a playful kitten. His eyes danced with delight as the small cat ran up and down his stairs, like a ghost of a happier past, or an angel of a better future. Life became enjoyable once more.

On the other side of town, Neville played with Snowdrop, and smiled. It was time to paint again. So he lifted his brush, as magic melted in the air. The future would be full of feline fun, days falling like dominoes towards a kitten fuelled destiny. For a cat’s love can last forever, staring out of a picture for all time.

Across town, seven year old Debbie had finished reading her book, “Sox the White Kitten.” She sighed, how she would love a little white kitten of her own. Somewhere, her dream was heard as paint licked a canvas like a hungry cat.

Geoffrey stared at the painting on his wall. The secret of art in his eyes, he stroked his kitten and sighed. He would call her Anne, after his wife. His door rattled in the wind, like a ghost trying to gain entrance. Then all was still, as silent as a sleeping kitten.

snowdrops against a white background
Image by Peggychoucair from Pixabay

Magic Kitten

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Noah lay in bed, tears rolling down his cheeks, a heavy stone turning in his heart. This was his first Christmas without Cheetah, his much adored Bengal cat. He had written to Santa asking for a kitten, however his mother had informed him that Santa did not give out living animals as gifts, and in fact no one should, as Christmas gifts may end up in an animal shelter after only weeks or months. “A cat is for life, not just for Christmas,” she intoned solemnly. “Besides, we will get you a kitten in the spring.”

However for once in her life, his mother would be proved wrong.

Noah awoke to feel something moving next to him. He stifled a scream, his six year old body quivering, his ginger curls standing in electric shock.

Tentatively, he opened his eyes.

A white kitten lay curled up before him, deep yellow eyes begging him to play.

Noah giggled. Had Santa really brought him a kitten?

white kitten playing with a Santa hat
StockSnap on Pixabay

A piece of paper lay on his bedside table, with lyrical old-fashioned writing like a missive from the past. “Love him like a glittering jewel, his feline power is beyond priceless.”

And so began a fifteen year relationship of fun and frolics. He named the kitten Miracle, as that is what he was and always would be.

Noah’s Mum was speechless. Had her husband bought the kitten without telling her? However, she quickly resigned to the presence of the new feline.

Noah grew in confidence and hurtled feet first in to a new happiness. Miracle lit up his heart like an inner candle of joy. He began a new hobby, football, and in-between practice spent happy hours with his cat.

Little did he know, that Miracle really did suit his name. He was a magic cat, chosen by Santa just for Noah. Every time Miracle looked in to Noah’s eyes, he imparted deep and ancient wisdom. Noah grew in more than just size, as maturity and magic magnified his mind.

The football hobby eventually turned professional; Noah had realised his dream. However, the day after his first record-breaking goal, the sixteen year old Miracle died. He had delivered his mission; Miracle had helped Noah grow in to the man he was and the man he would become. Miracle had furnished a new future, just as Santa had hoped and had foreseen.

Noah became famous, a pin up poster boy for young teenage girls. At the pinnacle of the young man’s stardom, dark times threatened to devour the planet. War whispered on the horizon, world peace as frail as a one hundred year old piece of paper.

It was during this period that Noah delivered the speech of his life during a routine TV interview.

“I have a heart to hope, and a soul to cry. Let’s choose the tears of friendship, and scrub out sobs of war and terror. Let’s choose peace over war, let’s create a paradise not a graveyard. Let every man and child, everywhere, live to see the sunset rise again in the pinks and reds of a brave new dawn. Let’s leave our children a better, a safer, a more peaceful world. Let’s begin now. Alight the flames of love in your heart, look at your brothers and sisters, feel their pain, share their hopes and fears.  Remember we are one, one human race, one planet. The future is ours to set free. Set it free to be reborn like a phoenix from the flames, set it free to deliver happiness and health to all, set it free to pulse to the quiet drum of peace. Banish the dismal drums of war forever. The future is ours, it is ours to mould like clay, let’s become master potters and mould the world we really want to see. Let peace perfume our world, a fragrance for the future of all time. Let love light our souls. Let compassion calm our rage, and empathy erode our divisions. It is time to stand united. It is time to say, enough, no more. It is time to create a paradise right here on Earth.”

sunset over the sea
Public Domain Pictures on Pixabay

Noah’s speech went viral. His message struck a chord at the heart of each nation, and the people knew a fresh hope.

Father Christmas watched with a silent smile on his lips. He had chosen Noah well. Miracle had performed his purrful magic to perfection.

However there was no rest for Santa. It was time to choose a magic Christmas kitten for yet another child. Santa’s smile grew wider.

Charlie turned over in bed, excited for Christmas Day, wishing it were here already. As he closed his eyes, a whisker fell on his pillow. A ginger kitten sniffed his hair, and curled up in the arch of his legs. Charlie would awake to a new friend … and the world would one day know a new leader. A man with the love of a cat colouring his soul. A leader with the innate instinct of a cat, and with feline secrets in his heart.