Image of Santa in the Northern Lights. 

Boots Rides Again 

“Boots, why don’t you ride with me Christmas Eve?” Santa said as he scratched me behind the ears.      

I opened one eye and raised my head. I’d rather sleep by the fire.

“But you’ll miss the celestial show tonight—an epic experience,” Santa said.

Sleeping is an epic experience, I thought, stifling a yawn.    

“I’ll be back for you,” he said with a wink I knew well.

“Where are my fur-lined gloves?” Santa called, rummaging through the closet, tossing mismatched gloves into the hallway with a thump, thump, thump.  

Mrs. Claus appeared holding his lost gloves. She handed him the gloves and wrapped a muffler around his neck in exchange for a kiss.

“You need a new muffler,” she said, pointing out the unraveling yarn.

“I like this muffler because it’s warm. What’s wrong with it?” he said, frowning in mock protest.

“Nothing a little magic can’t fix. I will ask the elves to mend it again,” she said, tsk - tsking.

“What would I do without you? And my magic scarf?” he said and chuckled softly.

Santa looked over at me standing by the doorway. “Boots, you decided to come. I’d like your company for old-time’s sake.”      

I’d matured at least three lifetimes since that first scary sleigh ride. One memorable night.  

 +++

Long before I met Santa, I was a curious carefree barn cat, content to share my home with a lot of horses. Oh, I can still smell the sweet scent of hay in my loft. But there wasn’t enough hay to keep me warm when temperatures dropped into the single digits. The heartland is harsh in the winter, even though I have a fur coat. I still shiver remembering Missouri winters.

That night, I had snuggled into an old, smelly horse blanket. Sleep came easily. In my dreams, I pounced on grasshoppers, chased field mice in a maze of corn, and dozed in the sunshine surrounded by wildflowers. Suddenly, a blast of frigid air and the sound of jingling bells woke me. The barn door stood wide open, and a herd of deer stood in formation. The snorting bunch began eating from the trough like they hadn’t had a meal in weeks. The horses ignored them, but I couldn’t. A blinking red nose coming from the smallest deer made the barn glow. I burrowed under the blanket.

But curiosity beckoned me to investigate. I snuck outside while the herd noisily ate. Outside, I spied a funny-looking type of tractor without wheels.   

I heard heavy footsteps and jumped inside the bulging bag atop the tractor. The warmth enveloped me, coaxing me into a nap.  I awoke to a deep voice calling, “Time to fly!” followed by a slap of reins.

 Where was I? I pawed at the thick fabric with my claws. I howled, screeched, and scratched. My stomach felt like I’d eaten something rotten. Panic set in. The bag opened, and a long white beard tickled my whiskers.

“Where did you come from?” the voice asked.

The Murphy’s barn, I thought.

“I have toys to deliver, and I’m afraid you’ll stuck with me, little one. Ah, you’re shivering,” the strange large man said as he pulled me out of the bag. He swaddled me in his muffler.

“We’ll get you back safe. The Mrs. will know what to do,” he said.

Twinkling, blinking stars surrounded us as we whooshed through the air.

“This nice clear night makes for smooth traveling,” he said.  

Who are you?

“Ho, ho, ho! I’m Santa Claus,” he said, reading my mind.  

Where are we?   

“Don’t worry, Midnight, we know our way. Look straight ahead if you feel sick,” Santa answered in a reassuring voice that comforted me. How did he know my name?

 My nausea had passed. 

“We’re going through the Milky Way,” Santa said, gesturing with both hands.

“It’s dazzling,” I said, wishing he’d hold onto the reins.

“The skies are spectacular. We love surfing over the rainbow of Northern Lights, which is phenomenal. Rudolph took to dancing with the lights. Ho, ho, ho! I promise to show you someday,” he said.

Before I could ask who Rudolph was, I fell into a deep sleep.

Refreshed, I woke up to a symphony of snoring from a crew of Santa’s helpers. Elves. Elves are the loudest sleepers I’ve heard and remember; I’ve slept in a barn.  Before I’d had time to explore, a short, smartly dressed woman with rosy cheeks and wire spectacles appeared.

“Bedraggled mess, but we’ll fix you up,” the woman said. I assumed this was the Mrs. She took my left paw in her hand. “Are your paws white? It looks like you’ve been walking in the snow.”

She pulled a brush from her apron, unknotting all the tangles until my coat glistened. She buried her face in my fur, which made her sneeze.

“Bless you,” I said.

“You need a bath, Boots,” she said. 

Didn’t she know I gave myself baths? I didn’t want a strange human touching me. But her kind eyes made me trust her.

She hummed “Jolly Old St. Nicholas” as she carried me into the house. She ran warm water into the sink and added soap. Using a soft cloth, she scrubbed my face and paws first before running the washcloth over me. She dried me with a towel and fluffed my fur. She held a mirror for me to admire myself.

I nodded my approval.

“Follow me Boots, I’ll conjure you up a nice dish of leftovers,” Mrs. Claus said.

She poured some cream into a bowl. It tasted like home, and I wasted no time lapping it up. She returned with a dish full of food. I inhaled the fishy goodness, not realizing how hungry I was.

Mrs. Claus invited me into their cozy cottage, where I made myself comfortable on the braided rug, where I lay now.

+++

 “Boots. I promised to show you the Northern Lights. Tonight’s the night,” Santa said.

I supposed my TikTok dance video could wait until next year.

Mrs. Claus held up a cat-sized sweater and smiled. Before I could stop her, she dressed me in the hand-knit, fuzzy soft sweater. The deep red color flattered my raven-colored coat and matched Mr. Claus’ suit too.

“Perfect fit!” she beamed, clapping her hands together.

Rather snug for my taste. But I would never hurt her feelings. I paraded around the room jingling?   

“The bells are a safety feature so Santa can hear you,” Mrs. Claus said.

I rolled my eyes. She meant well, but I sounded like a miniature sleigh. Rudolph and the guys would tease me relentlessly.

“I should get a photo of you two in your matching suits before you leave,” she said.

“No time,” Mr. Claus bellowed.

“Come along then, Boots. Donner is giving his pep talk to the crew while the elves load the sleigh,” Mr. Claus said, opening the door. He scooped me up and headed for the barn.

“Fill Old Santa’s sleigh before us, ho, ho, ho, ho ho, ha, ha, ha, ha," sang the elves who were giddy with exhaustion, but as soon as we left, they would party. A drunken display that I’d unfortunately stumbled upon last Christmas Eve. I jumped from Santa’s arms into the sleigh whilst the elves sang softer now,

“Spike the nog, prepare the punch. We are a partying bunch. Ho, ho, ho, ho-ho, ha, ha, ha, ha.

This party is on the down low; Old Santa mustn’t know.

Seriously, you got my gist? Santa still keeps a naughty list.”

The eldest elf's green eyes locked on mine, a warning. I nodded because these elves had a temper, especially after too much nog or grog or whatever nasty drink they brewed. I adored thick creamy milk — hold the rum.

A chorus of elves sang louder and faster, “Ho, ho, ho, ho-ho, ha, ha, ha, ha.”

“Ho, ho, ho, let’s go!” Santa called, bursting into the barn.

All the reindeer followed his orders, pairing up in front of the sleigh. With a wave of Santa’s hand, a harness floated above the team. Donner bowed his head three times. Santa checked the radar and gave the signal for lift-off. Contrary to widely held belief, Santa planned his route based on the weather, with no time to stop for treats. In fact, he carried protein bars—but that’s our secret.

“Time to Fly!” he called.

I closed my eyes, preparing for the sleigh to rise off the ground. My ears popped. Slowly, I opened my eyes when we were at cruising altitude.

“How much further until we reach the Northern Lights?” I asked.