Hamilton A. Cat & The Thanksgiving Tribunal

“What’s Thanksgiving?” For weeks, even before Halloween, Hamilton had been asking the various Persons and Cats in an effort to understand the big holiday in November that was fast approaching.

“I don’t know,” Holly Bear said, then went back to her computer game and continued to slay goblins.

“It’s a People holiday that celebrates the successful harvest from the previous year,” Mittens had said. “They have a big meal and give thanks to the great Cat in the sky.”

“It’s when we get to do fun art stuff in school,” Christopher, the Person-Kitten, said when he showed off his hand-print turkey art from elementary school to his Mom.

“It is when the colonizers gave thanks then displaced the indigenous population of the Americas,” Cassidy offered, looking up from the American History textbook.

Hamilton was used to precocious answers like this from Cassidy, the family’s oldest child. She was eleven, soon to be twelve years old, and was discovered to be a genius. Now, she attended college for half the day with her parents, who were both tenured professors, and middle school in the afternoon to help her socialize with her age group. She loved reading history and insisted on the unvarnished truth.

The fact that Cassidy could also talk to and understand cats like Anne Gaumont, the family’s adopted grandmother, was a secret kept from everyone.

When Hamilton asked Grandma Gaumont about Thanksgiving, she said it was a holiday to celebrate family and be thankful that all could gather together to be with each other.

Finally, Hamilton approached Giblet. “It’s when all the People have a big dinner, and we get to have really good People food from the table,” Giblet answered. “I especially like turkey!”

Now that he sorta knew what Thanksgiving was, Hamilton was determined to help the Man-Person in the kitchen make a great meal. So in the weeks leading up to the holiday, he scoured all the cookbooks in the Man-Person’s library for recipes for Thanksgiving dishes.

The Saturday before the holiday, the family brought home more groceries than usual, filled with exceptional food for the dinner. This buying spree culminated with the Man Person getting a large turkey that would be the meal’s centerpiece.

On Thanksgiving morning, Hamilton rose early and was already sitting on the kitchen table when the Man Person walked in. Immediately, the young black cat began directing what needed to be done.

“He’s so cute when he cooks,” Belle said, watching Hamilton from the family room.

“Yeah, it is one of his favorite things to do,” Mittens agreed.

“Is it time to eat?” Giblet asked, raising his head from a nap. Mittens and Holly shook their heads no, so he rolled over and went back to napping.

“Okay, keep chopping up the celery and onions. As soon as you have them ready, we will saute them in the Irish butter,” Hamilton meowed as he pushed the block of deep, rich yellow butter toward the Man. “We must have the stuffing ready to bake alongside the turkey.”

“I see you have your helper,” the Woman Person said as she walked into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. “Hi, Hamilton,” she said as she scratched the kitten under his chin.

“Yeah, you should hear him meowing at me. You would think he was telling me how to cook,” the Man said with a grin.

The turkey was stationed in the cast iron French roasting pan. A bundle of thyme, two halved lemons, two quartered onions, and garlic were stuffed into its cavity. The legs were trussed up, and the bird was brushed with butter and dusted with kosher salt and cracked pepper; it was ready for roasting.

“You,” Hamilton said to the Woman Person, “Open the large oven door on the right.” And then to the Man, he meowed, “It’s time to put the turkey in.”

“You’re right. He does like to tell us what to do,” the Woman said to her husband after a particularly long meow from Hamilton.

“Yeah, open the right oven door, and I will slide the turkey in,” the Man responded.

The woman opened the right door of the sizeable La Cornue French range. It had two ovens, two warming drawers, and six gas burners, all providing various heat levels depending on the need. All in all, this was a great kitchen to work in, Hamilton thought.

Hamilton cast a glance at the oven, checking the temperature and ensuring it was correct; it was. Then, satisfied, he meowed his approval and ran into the dining room to make sure the kids had removed their stuff from the table. So much to do, he thought.

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Four and a half hours later, Hamilton was in front of Mittens. He was in his room, hanging his head because he was in trouble…again. On one side, there was Giblet, who was not in a good mood, and on the other was Belle, who was trying to comfort him. Iko sat behind everyone and followed the proceedings.

Instead of having turkey and dressing on Thanksgiving, Giblet and the other cats had been chased out of the dining room because some cat had been bad.

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Everything had been going great. The turkey was roasting perfectly, the side dishes were coming along fine, and the dining room table had been set with the family china and crystal. Three bottles of Trimbach Gewurztraminer 2017 were chilling in the refrigerator, and the guests had begun to arrive. In fact, the preparation was going along so smoothly, and the Man Person was in such a good mood that he had fixed himself his Martini a little early.

Finally, the Man had pronounced the turkey done as he withdrew the digital thermometer from the thigh of the bird. “Now we have to let the turkey rest, eh Hamilton,” he said to the kitten who had been with him all day.

Carefully, the Man Person lifted the bird from the roaster and placed it on the heavy wood carving board. “What do you think, a turkey this size, hmm? Let it rest for thirty minutes?” he said, thinking out loud, not noticing that Hamilton answered him with a nod. Satisfied, he transferred the bird to the sideboard cabinet in the dining room to rest, then returned to the kitchen with Hamilton in tow to add the finishing touches to the side dishes.

The butter, brown sugar, and Amaretto had been added to the carrots. The cornstarch had thickened the turkey gravy nicely, and the Cornbread & Andouille sausage stuffing looked ready, but the Man wanted to check the stuffing temperature to make sure. “When dealing with sausage, you can’t be too sure, Hamilton meowed.” The Man-Person glanced around for his thermometer but couldn’t see it.  “Where did we put the thermometer, Hamilton?” he asked out loud, not expecting an answer from a cat. However, Hamilton meowed that he would look in the dining room and hopped off the table to check.

As soon as he was in the dining room, the kitten let out a gasp of a meow. To his horror, someone had pulled one of the wings off the turkey and set it on a plate. “Oh, My Cat!” Hamilton wailed. “This is a culinary presentational nightmare.” Even though Thanksgiving was new to him, he had heard that part of the tradition was to carve the bird in front of the entire family. And a vandalized turkey simply would not do.

I have to fix this, he thought. Then, acting fast, he jumped onto the table, carefully avoiding the wine and water glasses, and grabbed the wing with his mouth. I just need to put it back on the carving board, he thought. Maybe nobody will notice.

Suddenly, the swinging door into the dining room opened, and the Man Person was there, taking in the sight; a small black kitten on the table…turkey wing in his mouth…a look of surprise on his furry little face.  “Shirley, come here and get Hamilton out of here! He is eating the turkey!” the Man called out. Immediately Hamilton dropped the wing and began meowing out an explanation. But, unfortunately, it was not understood.

A moment later, the Mom Person came in with a look of exasperation on her face. She immediately picked up the kitten and deposited him on the floor. “Go, Hamilton,” she said, shooing him out of the dining room. Giblet, who had just been coming into the dining room for dinner, saw Hamy run past him. He tried to go into the dining room to see what was going on, but before he could see, he was unceremoniously shooed away, as well.

On his way up the steps, Hamilton passed Mittens, who was rousted by all the noise. “Go to your room, Hamy. I will be there in a minute,” her tone indicating she wanted no argument. So, here he was. In his room, and in trouble again.

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Hamilton went into his bedroom, and a moment later, Iko came in to be with him. “It’s going to be okay, Hamy,” she woofed.  “Gosh knows I have a problem ignoring turkey if I could get to it.”

“Thanks, Iko,” Hamilton meowed. “But I’m innocent.”

A few minutes later, Giblet and Belle walked in. “Mittens will decide how much trouble you’re in Hamilton,” Giblet meowed at the kitten. “But you should know, She’s a hangin’ judge!”

“Stop it, Giblet,” Belle scolded. “Hamilton, Mittens will listen to what you say and then make her mind up. So just tell the truth.”

“All I know is I should be having turkey and stuffing right now, and I’m not,” grumbled the tom cat.

A moment later, Mittens walked in and sat in front of Hamilton, who hung his head even lower. Giblet sat on one side and Belle on the other of the young Defendant. “What have you to say?” the Judge of the clowder asked.

“I didn’t start eating the turkey.  I found the wing on a plate and was going to put it back. But before I could, the Man came in and saw me,” came the meow of explanation.

“The Man Person said you did,” Giblet interjected. “That’s why all the cats are in trouble and not having dinner.”

“Objection! Speculation,” Belle spoke up. “Did the Man Person see Hamilton pull the wing off the turkey?”

“There was a turkey without one of its wings and a kitten with a turkey wing in his mouth,” Giblet argued. “There is no other plausible explanation.”

“You’re just upset that you aren’t eating right now,” Belle scolded Giblet.

“You’re right; we should all be having turkey right now,” Giblet rejoined.

Mittens listened to both sides and then raised her paw to silence the two advocates. “I want to believe you, Hamilton, I really do, but you have been bad in the kitchen before. Remember the scrambled eggs incident?”

“I know. And I was sorry about that, but I didn’t do it this time,” Hamilton said, turning his head first to Belle and then to Giblet.  Belle looked sympathetic but didn’t have anything to offer, and  Giblet just looked saturnine and resolute.

Mittens appeared regretful at what she was about to say, “Hamilton, I think….”

“Hamilton is innocent!” came a call from the doorway, interrupting the proceedings.  All eyes turned to Holly Bear and Cassidy as they came running into the room.

“What do you know about this, Holly?” Mittens inquired.

“I was upstairs playing my game when I smelled something delicious,” Holly began. “I came downstairs to see what it was.”

“What you smelled was the turkey dinner that I am not getting,” grumbled Giblet.

“Hush, Giblet,” Mittens meowed.  “Continue, Holly.”

“I saw the Boy Kitten, Christopher, pull the wing off and set it on his plate,” she explained. “I meowed at him to stop, but of course, he didn’t understand me, so I went to find Cassidy.”

“See, I didn’t do it,” Hamilton said again.

Cassidy nodded and began speaking, “After Holly told me what was going on, I went to Mom and Dad and told them it wasn’t the cats; it was Christopher who pulled the wing off. Mom and Dad asked him, and he admitted it. He said he wanted the wing for his dinner,” she concluded.

“Well, I guess we all owe you an apology, Hamilton,” Mittens said. A chorus of ‘sorries’ came from the assembled, except for Giblet, who bemoaned, “What about our turkey dinners?”

“That’s why I’m here. Mom told me to come and get you all for dinner,” Cassidy said with a smile. “Follow me.”

Giblet was the first to his paws, but soon thereafter, all the cats and Iko followed Cassidy downstairs to the feast. On the kitchen table were five small plates of turkey and stuffing arranged for cats, and on the floor was a plate for Iko. “I love Thanksgiving,” the dog woofed.

Giblet purred contentedly, eyeing his plate, enjoying the Thanksgiving he deserved.

In between mouthfuls, each of the cats complemented Hamilton on the meal.

“Good work, Hamilton.”

“Excellent stuffing, Hamy.”

“Really good, young cat.”

“I’m still hungry,” came from Giblet, who had already finished his dinner.

This was Hamilton’s first Thanksgiving, and he couldn’t be happier.