New companion joins home
This year’s holidays were the first in a long time that weren’t tedious and disappointing for Nick Todaro. That is a huge milestone — I’ve been an inveterate humbug since college, in no small measure because of an increasing feeling of inadequacy about the ability to give the big gifts that really hit people. We do all right around here, but Trump we ain’t, if you catch my drift. Still, let’s face it: Christmas is the giving season, and if you’re not giving well by age 30, you’re a jerk.
It was pretty good this time. What made Christmas so special is that I was able to adopt a cat from my brother. That was the best gift he could have given me, even though it was unplanned and agreed upon only on Christmas Day itself as the best course of action to alleviate a problem in his household. As I write this, Wicket Todaro, a four-year-old ball of fur I remember vividly sleeping on my chest in his kittenhood, is staring at me. The monologue in his ample feline brain compartment likely is about plotting my demise for rudely taking him from his comfort in Shreveport, but hey. Or he could just be hungry. But the majority of it is likely the adjustment of moving from Louisiana to Ennis. In a snowstorm.