11
3/12
I called Michael back to let him know Patrick was fine and that he didn’t need to worry.
“With you there, I’m not worried about him.”
His gaze was fixed on me through the screen. After a long pause, he finally confessed, his voice tinged with
hurt.
“I waited for your call for so long. I can’t believe neither of you even thought to call me.”
The more he spoke, the more pitiful he sounded, until he was outright accusing me and Patrick of neglect.
I did my best to soothe his ego and asked if he’d be able to make it back for Christmas.
A problem had come up with his project overseas. He wouldn’t be home for Christmas.
This would be my first Christmas with Patrick. A month before the holiday, our mother cat gave birth to fou adorable kittens.
Patrick’s face was constantly flushed with excitement. The first thing he did every morning was rush to the cat bed to check on the new arrivals.
We took good care of the big kitty, Mom! She didn’t die! She’s feeding her babies!”
‘Buddy, Buddy, come look!”
Patrick, come here for a second.”
He trotted over to me. “What is it, Mom?”
wiped the sweat from his forehead and wrapped the scarf I’d just finished knitting around his neck.
Just trying it on for size.”
‘d taken up knitting to pass the time, following tutorials online.
The scarf looked wonderful on him. I was pleased, and so was he.
He clapped his hands, turning to show off to Buddy. “Mommy knitted me a new scarf! I’m going to wear my new scarf for Christmas!”
Buddy immediately trotted over to me, burying his head in my lap with a pathetic whimper. He wasn’t satisfi ed until I tied his own little festive bandana around his neck.
In the month that followed, Patrick’s smiles started to fade.
The kittens, not yet litter-trained, made messes everywhere. He spent his days following them around, clean- ing up after them, constantly tired and sweaty.
