Home for Christmas

         Over 4 years ago, a large  and hefty black pussycat appeared in our mudroom and made himself quite at home. His name became Boris, and his attitude towards humans was all sugar and spice. But Boris had a darker side in his obnoxious behavior towards other kitties. He bullied all other felines and was, in fact, a terror to any traveling puss who dared venture into HIS territory. HIS territory being the entire farm, the barn AND the mudroom.  I named him Boris, the same as a cat in the James Herriot books,  who was a "Gladiator in a former life".   I thought it fitting. My Boris was not allowed in the house, lest he disturb the peaceful lives of our 3 senior kitties, who simply detested him.
    Despite Boris's  less than jovial personality, I really loved him and believe me, he had  a face only a mother could love, what with all the scars from fighting and the threatening glare in his eyes. Boris accompanied me daily up to the barn and after a preliminary  search for small fuzzy rodents, would sit patiently atop a bale of hay whilst I did my chores. Then, I would gather him in my arms, he purring loudly, and carry him down the  hill.
     Boris never strayed from the property, unless it was to chase off an intruding cat, so when he suddenly disappeared over 4 months ago, I was perplexed. I searched for him to no avail and pondered aloud " I wonder what's become of Boris?".   Boris was gone; my cats rejoiced, the mice hiding beneath the grain barrel threw a celebration party and the rats moved  back into the barn with all their relatives.I knew he was not off on a romantic holiday, as he was neutered, so I imagined that his past had caught up with him, and he met his demise when a former enemy, (another Gladiator)  ambushed him in a dark Hollow. Over the last few months, I continued to muse, "Whatever happened to Boris?"

    Last night, I entered the mudroom, and who do I see, head buried in kitty bowl, ravenously devouring kibble...??? That's right, BORIS.       

                             
   He seemed no worse for wear, hefty and muscular as ever, albeit a few more scars on his face. He greeted me with a loud purring and contented countenance.  I brought him in the house and he sat my lap for hours.

The other cats are not pleased, but they have no holiday spirit at all and

                    I think it's grand that my big Gladiator is Home for Christmas!

 I do wish he could tell me of his adventures, they must have been quite thrilling to keep him away for 4 months. Whatever they were, his disposition has not changed, as you can see by the look on his face.

Maybe someday, I will find out...

When he writes his autobiography.