Crouched behind the green dumpster, Miao felt the urge to pounce at a pedestrian who rushed past the alley with a Red Paper Bag in hand. But it was just a passing fancy and he knew he wouldn’t act on it.

Miao didn’t understand why everyone was in such a hurry today. Tonight would be the winter solstice, the longest night of the year. And a big snowstorm was coming; he could feel it in his crooked tail. Ever since he had been wounded in a fight with the Big Mean Dog, his tail would ache before it snowed.

From his hiding place, Miao saw an endless stream of boots slushing along the sidewalk. Red Paper Bags swung alongside many of them, which made him very curious.

Miao loved Paper Bags. It was always a joy to find one abandoned in the many alleyways that he frequented throughout the day. How warm it was to curl up inside one! How remark- ably different the world sounded from within. And how lovely they smelled. His favorites had a faint musky sweetness like ice cream melting on a summer sidewalk.

Behind him, he heard the Metal Door open. The Bald Man in a white apron was taking out the trash. He always smelled of food and grease. Miao sat on his haunches and greeted him.

“Hello,” Miao said.

The Bald Man made a sound that Miao didn’t understand. From his apron, he produced half a frankfurter and tossed it at Miao

“Thank you,” Miao said with a smile, even though he knew the Bald Man never understood him.

The Bald Man chucked his bag into the dumpster, made another incomprehensible sound and returned to the Metal Door, closing it with a clang that echoed through the alley.

Licking his whiskers after his teatime snack, Miao proceeded along the sidewalk. He was extra careful to not get trampled by all the People rushing by. A few of them stopped to look at him but he kept walking. He was determined to see where all the Red Paper Bags were coming from. For these were not normal bags; these were adorned with vivid images of bells, reindeer and pine trees.

After trotting many blocks against the stream of Red Paper Bags, Miao arrived at the public square. He stayed on the outskirts – hiding at the foot of the pine trees, which were curiously decorated with strings of lights. There were Children lurking about. Miao didn’t particularly like Children – especially the ones who hurled snowballs at him or tried to touch him.

From within a row of leafless hedges, Miao spied the Big Ice Patch on which Children and Grownups glided happily in circles. Some of them held hands – laughing and falling and helping each other to their feet again. Miao didn’t understand why they enjoyed slipping around on the Big Ice Patch. Yet as he watched the carousel of People, he felt an unexpected tinge of sadness. A vague memory surfaced.

He faintly remembered a time when he slept in a cushioned box in a corner of a warm room. The floors were soft and warm and fuzzy – like grass, only pink and softer. His tail was unbent then, never aching when he sat at the window watching the snowfall. A Child used to pick him up, play with him, keep him safe. A Grownup who smelled of smoke would fill his plastic bowl with food.

Then came the image of Big Men taking the family’s stuff away in cardboard crates. Miao recalled dashing out the window and running down the fire escape. When he had gathered the courage to return, the window was closed. The home was empty.

The Child and Grownup had gone.

For weeks, Miao returned to the window. Despite his clawing and meowing, no one came to let him in. The room remained empty, the familiar smells that seeped through the windowsill faded with the passing days.

The Child was faceless now, the Grownup’s smoky scent forgotten. And Miao no longer remembered the way back to his once-beloved window.

Miao shivered in the cold, shook the memory away. He had remained still for too long and the chill made his crooked tail ache. He had to move on. And anyway, he didn’t really enjoy the company of others – did he? No. People often harassed or avoided him. Most other Cats chased him away as they guarded their self-appointed times in various alleys. Some- times, he would chance upon a friendly Cat and together they would search a dumpster for a meal. But except for these odd encounters and the daily teatime with the Bald Man, Miao quite preferred keeping to himself.

And besides, more Paper Bags were streaming across the square now. A Tall Man walked by the hedge, hands full of Red Paper Bags. This was his chance.

Miao stalked the Tall Man, keeping to the bushes and trees as best he could, quickly crossing the open spaces to avoid being seen. He kept no more than a few paces behind his prey, fearful of losing him yet careful not to be seen.

The Tall Man stopped at an intersection, waiting to cross the avenue. The tick-tacking sound of the lamppost was slow now. Miao slipped under a mailbox set deep into the sidewalk. He didn’t like the spray of salty water that the cars kicked up as they sped by. It stung his eyes.

Finally, the cars stopped just short of the wide yellow stripes that led across the avenue. The ticking became insistent, rattling like a jackhammer. The Tall Man made his way across the avenue toward a dead-end side street.

Miao scanned his surroundings, waiting for the salty mist to subside. The rumbling cars stayed put, no one else was around. The Tall Man was almost across now. Miao crept forward.

The rattling grew intermittent. Across the avenue, a light on the lamppost began to flash. A car inched forward ever so slightly.

Miao took a deep breath and sped across the yellow lines, slipping under a bench on the opposite side. He made it safely across just as traffic moved along the avenue once again.

Peeking under the cars parked along the curb, Miao could see the Tall Man’s galoshes stomping on the street, stopping beside a salt-covered sedan. Seeing no one else nearby, Miao’s confidence grew. A primal sensation rose from within – an intense droning that erased all doubts and fears. His senses sharpened, his vision grew more acute. The muscles in his shoulders took on a peculiar tenseness.

With uncommon fluidity, Miao slipped under the sedan. The smell of petroleum filled his flaring nostrils. His eyes locked onto his prey’s galoshes. The Tall Man put his bags on the ground and fumbled for his keys. Miao seized the opportunity.

With one swift motion, Miao pounced forward, snatched a bag with his front claws, pulled it under the car. The bag tipped over, spilling its contents on the wet asphalt. Miao bit down on the handle, feeling the paper crush in his jaws as he dragged it deeper into the darkness. The Tall Man let out a surprised sound and crouched to see what had happened. But he was too late.

Miao wrangled the bag across the undercarriage and emerged on the other side. He hoisted it onto the sidewalk and fled into the cul-de-sac. He ran as fast as his legs could take him. The bag trailing from his chin caused him to fumble, almost tumbling headlong onto the concrete. But he refused to let go. He heard the Tall Man bark at him. Somewhere to his left, a snowball smashed onto the ground. His feet slipped on a patch of ice. But he didn’t dare look back.

At the very end of the cul-de-sac, Miao slipped under a parked mail truck. He had to drop the bag to catch his breath, breathing through his mouth. The cold air stung his lungs. And he waited, claws out and legs taut. But the sound of running footsteps did not come. He perked his ears and waited some more.

When he was sure the Tall Man was no longer pursuing him, he relaxed his shoulders. His primal instincts released its grip and his body shivered from the adrenaline.

Miao sniffed at his prize, pawing the bag open to get a better whiff. This bag smelled fruity, like the sticky pink stuff that Children stuck under park benches. He poked his head inside, feeling the warmth of his breath fill the space within. A pair of eyes looked back at him.

Miao jumped back, arching his spine and hissing. The Thing inside didn’t move. The corner of the Thing’s mouth was turned downward at odd, sad angles. It was as if Miao was looking into a mirror, seeing a tiny, black-and-yellow striped version of himself.

Miao warily pawed at the bag. The Thing remained still, its short and stubby limbs outstretched as it lay on its belly. A loop of gold string hung from the top of his head. Miao stepped into the bag again and touched his nose to the Thing. It felt soft, it smelled nice. And it sat wide-eyed as Miao gently nibbled its ear.

Miao had found a friend.

Then a thought came to him. It was an odd sort of thought. For in the eyes of his inanimate feline friend, he saw his own loneliness. Here was a Thing that, like him, had no home. It had been left behind by the Tall Man, who had given up the chase and had driven away, probably almost home by now. Miao knew it was just a toy. But it was left on the streets as Miao had been, so long ago. Without a friend in the world.

But that wasn’t really true, Miao thought. He did have one friend; the Bald Man who showed him kindness every day. Since that autumn afternoon when Miao first discovered the Metal Door, the Bald Man has shared his teatime snack with him. And all at once, an idea seized him. He had to visit the Bald Man this evening.

The light of the afternoon was already fading, and it would be too much of an effort to drag his Paper Bag with him. It pained him to leave his prize behind. But a curious feeling in his chest told him it was the right thing to do – the very thing he wanted to do.

Miao curled up in his Paper Bag, enjoying the warmth for a moment longer. Then he picked up the Thing in his mouth and made his way back to the Metal Door.

When Miao finally arrived, the gray afternoon light had given way to the amber street- lamps. He wondered if he was too late, if the Bald Man had already taken out the trash for the evening. He placed the Thing on the ground and pawed at the Metal Door. Then he sat on his haunches and waited.

Just as he was sure he was too late, the Metal Door clicked open and the Bald Man emerged. Now, instead of a white apron, the Bald Man wore a thick red sweater with snow- flakes and reindeer. He greeted Miao with a surprised sound and proceeded to dump the trash.

“This is for you,” Miao said.

The Bald Man looked at Miao. Then his eyes fell upon the Thing that lay sideways on the ground, its stubby little paws stretched out as if pleading to be put right again.

The Bald Man crouched down and pointed at the Thing. “For me?” “This is for you,” Miao said, nudging the Thing forward.

“Aww! Thanks, Miao!”

For the first time, they understood each other.

The Bald Man picked up the Thing and returned to the Metal Door. But instead of closing it, he waited.

Miao peered at the space beyond the door, squinting at the white light within. He slowly approached, stopped by the jamb and looked up at his friend.

“Well, go on!”

Miao entered the warm kitchen of the diner and the Metal Door closed behind him with a clang that echoed down the alley.

***

That evening, Miao found himself surrounded by People. The Bald Man had many friends. They arrived two and three at a time, embracing the Bald Man as they entered. They came bearing Paper Bags and Colorful Boxes, which the Bald Man placed under a small Glittering Pine Tree that sat on the far end of the counter.

As the evening began, Miao was frightened. The People greeted Miao with friendly smiles – especially the Children. At first, Miao hid behind the stools and tables, not allowing anyone to touch him. Eventually, everyone sat down and the feasting began. The smells were enticing. The Bald Man eventually lured Miao out of hiding with a gold-rimmed plate piled high with the tastiest meat that he had ever had.

The diner was filled with laughter and mirth, food and drink – and a warmth that Miao had not thought possible on the longest night of the year. He ate more than he had in years. And most surprisingly, his courage grew. He even allowed the Children to pet him – for the moment forgetting about all the snowballs that had been thrown at him through many winters.

At length, the People left. They hugged the Bald Man before disappearing into the dark- ness outside. Miao sat on the counter and watched the Bald Man put his Paper Bags and Colorful Boxes into a cardboard crate that, by its lingering odor, had one contained apples.

Miao padded across the countertop and sat by the apple crate, watching dolefully as the Bald Man put on his coat. The Bald Man stood waiting, his hands in his coat pocket.

The Bald Man nodded at the crate. “Well, go on.”

Miao sniffed the crate and carefully climbed in, nestling himself into the biggest Red Paper Bag among the bunch. The paper crumpled slightly as he sat upright on the wool sweater inside. The Bald Man chuckled and carried the crate under one arm. They left together through the front door.

***

That night, Miao was given a cushioned box in which to sleep. The floor was soft and warm and fuzzy like the one he knew years ago – this one was brown instead of pink. The room smelled different but just as comforting. Through the window, the light of the cold world made the shadows of the snow dance on the fuzzy floor. But his tail no longer ached.

Miao laid his head on his front paws, cozy in his corner under a tall Glittering Pine Tree.

The Thing hung from a branch by his golden loop of string. And Miao thought that it didn’t look quite as forlorn, now that it has found its place in the world.

And as Miao’s eyelids began to feel heavy, he thought of the Red Paper Bags and all the People who rushed about on this winter solstice. And he finally understood why everyone was in such a hurry.

For it was a special time of the year. It was a time to be home.