The Christmas Cookie Caper

By J. M. Allison    

I stared through the window from my perch on the eucalyptus tree. Tonight was the night. I crept down the trunk and froze as the lights flipped on inside the house. A human wandered into the room, holding a plate of delectable treats before him. Two smaller humans jumped and skipped around him, chattering about the coming arrival of the man in red.

I’ve watched this ritual for five years. The humans announce their anticipation awaiting the arrival of the man in red. They set out treats to entice him and speculate on how much he’ll enjoy the snack. Yet he’d never shown. Instead, the large human always returned under the cover of night and gobbled up the treats himself. Telling the delighted human joeys, “Oy, looks like the big man loved your bikkies.” But I’d ensure that didn’t happen this year.

I waited as the human ushered the little ones out of the room and off to sleep. The light turned off and I continued down the tree. I trundled to the veranda, climbed over the railing, and crossed the deck.

A light blazed to life. I trotted on short legs for the shadows. Had they seen me? Squeezing into a dark corner I waited, my gray fur blending into the night. My pulse pounded. I detected no movement from within the house. Then the light went out. I gave the air a sniff. Only the sweet and spicy scent of warm ginger and nutmeg reached my nose.

I inched to the window and peeked inside. Darkness filled the room, but I was made for nighttime adventures. I pushed the window up with one velvet paw and slipped into the room. A radiata pine stood in the corner. Strands of red and gold wound through the green needles, and a myriad of small objects nested in the branches.

I paused as my eyes caught on a miniature of my kind hidden deep amongst the clutter. It clung to the branch, a red triangle topped its head. Its large black eyes urged me onward in my glorious mission.

“Nigh’, kiddos!” A deep voice rumbled from down the hall. The bikkie-stealing human was headed my way. No more distractions.

I lumbered to the plate. The small brown morsels, topped with red and white glaze, beckoned me. Gathering the warm treats in one hand, I scrambled onto the squashy, leafless stumps I’d seen the humans perch on while they ate and relaxed.

Footsteps padded across the hall. I shoved the first tangy sweet into my mouth, savoring the vibrant flavor. Heavy footfalls thumped out a rhythmic pounding punctuated by the creaking of old wood. A second treat followed the first. Gentle thuds as the human approached. I popped a third treat into my mouth and shook my head, dislodging the crumbs from my fur.

The light flashed on and I squinted against the sudden brightness. I slowly opened my eyes, careful not to make any movements that would draw the human’s notice. He shuffled around the room, singing and whistling a variety of notes only vaguely resembling the festive tunes I’d heard blaring from the house over the previous weeks.

The lyrics cut off abruptly as he stopped beside my perch, his focus on the empty plate. His brow wrinkled and he looked around the empty room, then scratched the back of his head. I held my breath. Predators zeroed in on movement. Still as the trees, safe as the leaves, I reminded myself.

“Angie,” the large human said, then waited for the acknowledging shout from another room before continuing. “You didn’t help the big guy out with the bikkies, did ya?”

The musical voice replied in the negative and the human rubbed one furless paw down his face with a soft chuckle. “Must’ve been Mickey. Cheeky little ankle biter. Sneakin’ back down after tuck in.”

He turned to go, then stopped. He stared down at me. Still as a tree…

He poked one meaty paw toward me, brushing gently against my fur. Safe as a leaf…

“They make these things more realistic every year.” He straightened and glanced about the room. Then he snatched something red and white from a nearby surface and flopped it on my head. Every muscle tensed. Keep it together. Still as a tree, safe as a leaf.

He adjusted the hat, ensuring the white puff at the tip fell forward over my shoulder. I resisted the urge to bite and bat the hat away. Still as a tree…

“The kids are gonna love this!” He stepped back and admired his work. Then with a final nod, he shuffled out of the room, a warbly tune on his lips.

I reached to knock the hat away.

“I think the hat suits you.”

I jumped and scrambled behind the pine tree. He’d come back! I’d been discovered! I peered through the pine needles. The open window lay just beyond reach.

“Don’t be frightened, my little friend.” The speaker stooped down to peer around the branches at me. “I don’t mind sharing my biscuits with you.”

I stared at him with large eyes. The man in red. The big man himself. He’d come. He’d finally come. The mysterious visitor wore red shorts and a matching red hat, identical to the one on my own head. A large, fur-lined red coat partially covered a button-down shirt sporting an array of kangaroos and koalas with festive hats.

“Besides, I should thank you, my friend.” He opened his arms in invitation and I hurried into his embrace. “Thanks to you, there’s one more who’ll be believing in Christmas magic come morning when Mickey reveals he didn’t steal the biscuits.”

He lifted me to the window and I scampered through, racing back over the veranda and into the safety of my eucalyptus tree. When I peered back, the man in red was gone.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J. M. Allison, more commonly addressed as Lisa, or Mommommommom, grew up captivated by the magic and wonder of fairy tales. She finds daily adventure in raising four rambunctious younglings, teaching musical theatre and dance, sewing, drawing, cosplaying, writing, and reading. Stories can communicate so many things, and she hopes her stories will bring a smile and inspire others to courageously live their own adventures.

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