We didn't expect to be adopted by a kitty cat in December 2000, but that's exactly what happened.
It was one of the colder Decembers that I remember. Mom, Dad, and I had pretty much finished buying and wrapping/gift bagging all of our Christmas gifts, which included treats and chew toys for the dogs and cats who ruled over both my sisters' homes.
About a week before Christmas that year, mom and I headed out to run an errand, but as we were walking to the car, I heard some weak "mew" sounds, perhaps coming from the woods. It sounded like a kitten. I couldn't determine where it was, so Mom and I went on our way. When we returned, I heard the same sounds again, and that time, Mom heard them, too.
But again, I couldn't locate the source of the sounds, though I badly wanted to. We ended up going on inside after a few minutes of searching around the property.
A couple of days later, we had to go out of town for a death in the family. I again heard the mewing. I told Mom that when we returned, assuming the kitten was still out there, I was going to canvas the yard and wooded area more thoroughly. It hurt my heart to think a kitty could be out there all alone in the cold, possibly with no food or way to get warm.
SEE ALSO (VIP): Caregiver's Diary Part 57: Mom, Dad, and the Christmas Lights
We got back two days before Christmas, and sure enough, the mewing sounds were there again, but this time I also heard what sounded like movement. I knew the kitten had to be nearby. After I put my stuff away from the trip, I grabbed one of the cat treat bags and headed back out, placing three or four pieces of the chicken-flavored Pounce treats on the driveway.
Knowing how cats can be skittish at first and don't like to feel crowded, I stepped back and waited. At around the 10-minute mark, I was just about to go back inside when I heard a slight rustling. I turned around, and there she was.
She was so small. Probably only about three months old. She ate the treats hungrily and only spared me a glance before scampering off.
After another day or so of this routine, we saw her in the back yard. My mom wanted to see if we could lure her inside out of the cold. My dad was reluctant, however, as he was allergic to cats. He'd gone through 14 years of us owning our previous cat, and after all the sneezing and nose-blowing, he wasn't keen on repeating the experience.
But on Christmas day, something changed. The shaggy gray kitty let my mom pet her for the first time, after she'd tried off and on the previous day to get her to come to her. Mom sat on the back steps and picked the kitten up, putting her in her lap to give her some warmth. We asked Dad again if she could come inside for a couple of days, knowing that if he said yes, it was likely we'd be keeping her for longer than that.
And that is exactly what happened. We named her Muffin, and over the years, we have loved telling the story about how she came to us on Christmas.
As far as caregivers in our family go, Muffie was the OG. She was there for us when we were sick, when we were sad, and when any of us felt lonely in this great big world. When my dad found out he had end-stage kidney disease and had to go on dialysis, she lay next to him on the couch and comforted him as he (and mom and me) came to terms with the news. In the winter months, I didn't have to wear socks to bed because Muffie's soft fur and warm body kept my feet warm as she slept at the foot of it.
Mom's Christmas tree was, without a doubt, Muffie's favorite place to lie outside of my lap and my mom's. The tree was right next to the French doors, where all the sunlight came in and where she could also look out into the back yard. We would purposely arrange Christmas presents in a way that left her a spot to stretch out and lounge, with the sunlight warming up her soft fur and making it gleam.
Muffie also loved "helping" wrap presents, diving into the paper with wild abandon in her younger years, and climbing on top of the boxes to be wrapped in her later years.
One of the last Christmases we had with her, she jumped on top of the TV stand, fully entranced by the TV fireplace we watched, where a cat was playing in its cat bed. She searched all around the TV for it, thinking it was in the room with us. It was just the cutest thing.
We lost Muffie in October 2016, unexpectedly. We knew our time with her was limited, but up until a few days before we had to say goodbye, you would have thought she was half her age by how she moved around and acted. We were devastated. I think the last time I had cried that much was when my grandmother passed away in the early 1980s. It hit mom and dad hard, too, to the extent my dad actually cried over it - one of only three times I had ever seen him cry.
To help keep Muffie's memory alive, I started a new tradition that Christmas. Back in the late 80s, Mom had made a small ceramic Christmas tree that lit up, and it was one of our favorite things to put out to display. I decided I'd put it next to or near Muffie's resting spot (which is on a blanket her great-grandma made) each year, so she would still be able to enjoy time near another one of Mom's trees every Christmas. A photo ornament of her is also placed in the heart of the living room Christmas tree every year, with birds and other sentimental ornaments surrounding her.
A sneak peek at the topic of my next Caregiver's Diary VIP piece at @RedState: Muffie the Christmas kitty. pic.twitter.com/kbXoyWdHoj
— Sister Toldjah 💙 (@sistertoldjah) December 17, 2025
And she is always at the heart of our Christmas tree, with birds all around her. pic.twitter.com/nSrZPpRKrd
— Sister Toldjah 💙 (@sistertoldjah) December 17, 2025
Mom and I have talked about getting another cat, but I've had to reluctantly express opposition for two reasons. The first one is that I can't take a chance that Mom could trip over the cat. They love to dodge around, and if mom ended up falling and hurting herself - and possibly losing her mobility, I would not be able to live with myself.
The second reason is that I have my hands full being a caregiver and working full-time. I simply cannot take on that level of responsibility right now, as much as we'd love to.
The good thing is we have plenty of photos to look at and memories to reflect on of days gone by. And what gives us the most joy from all of that is knowing that Dad and Muffie have gotten to spend a lot of quality time with each other now that they're together again. It also gives us joy to know that the sweet cat who was like an angel here on earth now has her wings and is flying high.
Miss you so much, baby girl. Merry Christmas in heaven, and please say hello to Dad-o for me.
