Page 72 of Whiskers on Kittens

She wanted a Christmas miracle for us, and finding any man willing to put up with us and our wicked ways counted.

With presents on the line, the kittens inhaled their breakfast in record time, and I delayed long enough to prompt them into putting their dishes in the sink, hoping they hadn’t learned too many bad habits while in our care. Once done, I herded them into the living room, snagging my Santa hat on the way, and hollered, “Presents!”

With amusing haste, everyone crammed into the area. It took about thirty seconds to determine we would have to spread over as much of the lower level of my house as possible to give everyone space to open their gifts. Once I had an audience, I clapped my hands. “Divide and conquer. Kittens, pick a place for your presents to be delivered. Once we have everyone set up with their pile of gifts, we’ll start opening them. If there is a specific present you want to watch be opened, put it aside in a master pile. We’ll open those specific gifts last.” I pointed at a spot near the kitchen. “We’ll put those presents there.”

It amused me that most people had at least one or two gifts they wanted to witness be opened, and everyone went for those gifts first. The pile spilled into the kitchen, and the helpful entourage of demonic and devilish chefs promised to organize everything in the dining room to help make things more efficient.

After an hour, with my sanity dribbling away, we got everything sorted. As I expected, the Georginos settled in to watch their kittens lose their minds over the plethora of presents. Some had come from me, some had come from the Devil and his many minions, and I suspected a few of the shimmering packages had been the work of angels and archangels.

Having met Him, I suspected a few unspoken gift requests had been brought to life.

It seemed like something He would do if given a chance.

The heavens and hells were all about balance, and it would take more than a few weeks going to amusement parks and having presents to ease the Georgino family’s suffering.

To my amusement, I had a ridiculous number of gifts, and I abused an incubus to help me determine which ones had come from colleagues and businesses, shoving those away in my office to be investigated later. A few caught my attention, as they were from my contact from the new job along with a few from the unions.

Puzzled, I sent the Devil a text asking if he knew why they’d sent gifts.

Lucifer’s reply, which informed me that the unions and corporation had been notified I’d abandoned most of my work to rescue trafficked children, would drive me insane for days to come.

I hadn’t done the work to be shown any form of compensation or even gratitude.

The kittens giggling and laughing while tearing through pretty wrapping paper was all the compensation and gratitude I would ever need. The congregation of helpers made the paper disappear, and when Mollie protested over the loss of some of the shimmering, pretty paper, it was folded and added to her pile of presents. Upon realizing they could keep the paper, the boys mimicked the incubi and succubi helpers, folding the scraps they wanted to keep and neatly adding it to their gifts.

The adults waited until the kittens had been lulled into a state of bliss to begin exploring their gifts, and I encroached on Easton’s space to observe him navigate his collection of presents. The ones from his family bothered him the most, and he regarded them with the same wariness of a mouse in the sights of a hunting snake.

“They’re probably going to be generic gifts, the stereotypical type of things that you might inflict upon someone at one of those white elephant parties.”

“I hate those damned things,” he muttered. “I always get something I have to fake I enjoy.”

“Like what?”

“A pair of toasters comes to mind.”

“A pair of toasters?” I could see how somebody might be less than thrilled about receiving a pair of toasters. A single toaster would require a great deal of fortitude to accept with grace. “I hate toasters. Do you know what’s bad for a cat? That unexpected pop. The last time I used a toaster, I forgot about it, shifted, and ran around the house for some exercise. When it went off, I lost at least half my fur.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“I was shedding.”

I had no idea if clouded leopards shed in the wild, but when summer rolled into fall, I lost my summer coat in favor of a plusher, thicker coat to help me get through the winter.

Easton snickered. “It must have been an explosion of fur, then.”

“It was not a good time.” I considered his presents, and I went for one that was vaguely toaster shaped. A quick check of the label revealed it to be from one of his brothers. “This is a good candidate for being a toaster.” Picking it up, I determined it to be far too heavy to be a toaster. “Belay that. This could be a box of coal? Rocks? Bricks?”

“Books,” Easton replied after checking the tag. “That brother is addicted to non-fiction. It is probably a bunch of religious texts to convert me into a proper…”

I blinked, wondering why he’d trailed off. Then I realized we shared my home with a bunch of demons and devils vying for a chance to play with the kittens and otherwise celebrate Christmas with us. “You were about to say God-fearing Christian, weren’t you? I’ve met Him. Absolutely not worth fearing in the slightest. Nice guy, a little confused I think, but nice. I have him pegged as a doting father figure. Just don’t upset Him. My Acura upset Him. As such, He had his wicked feathered children steal it.”

“Why? It’s such a nice car.”

“It’s older,” I confessed. “I just took immaculate care of her, and while she had great features when new, she’s old. He did not appreciate her age. I don’t know why. She’s a good car. The Lexus is much newer. Fortunately, the Lexus was spared.”

“That Acura is older?”

“She was in perfectly good condition, scored excellent marks for reliability, and won awards for comfort. She got the Employee of the Month award for classy comfort every month. I gave her a wash to celebrate her achievement.”