Chris had known from the time she'd set eyes on the tuxedo cat that they were one. The sweet black and white cat seemed to have a heart made of pure, solid gold. Back at the shelter, the cat she'd adopted had been glued to the side of another, who, when Taylor looked closer, seemed a bit miserable. Her tuxedo cat had gone between the cats who appeared the saddest, brushing up close against them and sometimes licking them if they'd allow it, until the other cats appeared a little happier. It was as if these other cats each had their own personal storm cloud bucketing rain down upon them. Then, Chris's tuxedo cat had come along, like a little way of sunshine to brighten their day and provide a little reprieve from the rain. Chris had immediately been captivated. The impact seemed profound; each of the others her tuxedo cat had touched was somewhat changed by the presence, companionship and comfort the little tuxedo cat provided. Their moods were lifted, their spirits made brighter, their day just that little bit better.
Upon arriving home, Chris's cat had gravitated straight toward her unwell and understandably grumpy grandfather. His demeanour remained, as if Chris's grandfather was determined to stay mad and grumpy. As if he preferred it. As if it were better. But, the little tuxedo cat also remained in position, perched on one arm of his lounge chair.
Disgust and disapproval in his eyes, Chris's grandfather slowly looked up to meet her gaze. "What'd you bring this thing home for then?" He eyed the cat.
"I thought you might be able to use a companion," Chris ventured carefully.
Her grandfather 'hmmphed'.
"And I thought that maybe, I might benefit from a friend."
His gaze softened, just a slight fraction. His 'mmm' carried with it a very tiny hint at approval.
Chris's attention returned to her new feline friend, still perched on the arm of her grandfather's chair. Her cat's gaze was on him, gentle and unthreatening. Chris's cat seemed to recognise there had been a crack in the older man's resolve, and this was the perfect chance to pounce. Slow and steady, paws padded closer until smooth, soft fur met wrinkly skin.
Suddenly, Chris's grandfather seemed to snap out of the spell their new friend had momentarily cast him under and leaned back and away from the cat. His eyes found his granddaughter's. Chris searched them to find something of the cat's spell had remained. Though her grandfather still seemed stiff, his resolve, and demeanour with it, had softened some.
Chris couldn't help smiling, just a little. "See? I told you it'd be good for you."
"Has it got a name?"
"Not yet."
"Boy or girl?"
"Dunno."
Chris held her breath while her grandfather thought. It took great strength for her to maintain the tiny smile on her face while she watched her grandfather absentmindedly reach out to touch her cat, who moved back and forth beneath his hand to facilitate a pat.
It was only when Chris and her grandfather awoke and wandered through the house the following morning that she thought of a name for their new companion. A little of her grandfather's grumpiness had returned at the sight of the state their house had been left in.
"The cat found the tissues," he observed, voice rough with disdain.
Chris wanted to laugh. On the floor were countless tiny fragments of tissues, scattered everywhere. A smile did crack her lips as her cat appeared before them. "Snow."
