Have you ever wished
your cat could be someone else? First of all, why on earth would you wish for something
like that? And second, you should be careful what you wish for, as the old
widow in this US folk story found out the hard way.
Once upon a time, there was an old widow woman whose only
companion in life was her faithful cat. Woman and cat spent hours every day in
their comfortable chair near the fireplace, the woman reading and the cat
curled on her lap, purring. They so enjoyed this spot that they often spent not
only the day but also the night alternately reading and dozing before the fire.
And that is where they were late one night, the woman
snoring contentedly as the final embers of the fire faded, when suddenly the
cat stood up, arched his back, and hissed. The woman stirred herself awake and
was startled to see a short but lithe figure standing between her and the fire.
“Who are you?” the woman demanded, reaching for the cane she
kept propped against her chair.
“Greetings! I am your elf,” said the figure.
The woman’s fingers brushed against the cane but only succeed
in knocking it to the floor.
“Let me get that for you,” the figure offered, stepping
closer.
“No! You stay where you are, you … you.… What did you say
you are again?”
“An elf. I’m your personal wish elf, come to grant you three
wishes. Whatever you want, just name it, Granny.”
The cat hissed. The woman laughed. “No such thing as elves,”
she said.
“And yet here I am,” the elf replied quite reasonably. “Come
on, just tell me your wishes, I’ll grant them, and we’ll both be happy. I’ll be
that much closer to making my monthly wish quota, and you’ll get some stuff you
want. What can it hurt to wish?”
At this point the woman realized she must be having a dream.
This elf—or whatever it was—was right. What could it hurt to wish?
“All right,” she said. “First, I wish I were rich. And not
just a little bit rich—I want to be filthy rich. Second, I wish I were young again,
and beautiful. Third, I wish my cat here were a handsome young man. But not too
young. Something Channing Tatum-ish. You got that?”
“Sure, Granny. Wealth, youth, pretty plaything. This is all
standard stuff. You’ll have it when you wake in the morning. If you’re not
completely satisfied, call 1-800—”
“Oh, get out already!”
With that, the elf vanished. Chuckling at the mere thought
of a “personal wish elf,” the woman dozed off again.
The next morning, the woman woke to find herself in a luxurious
bed in the most extravagantly furnished bedroom she could imagine. Seeing a mirror
on the wall, she slipped out of bed—without any pain or creaking joints, she
noticed—and hurried to look at herself. Her hair was once again long and blond,
her wrinkles and age spots were gone, and—she smiled and then opened her mouth to
be sure—yes, she had a full set of her own teeth! If all this had happened,
then the cat …
She turned to see a shirtless Channing Tatum lounging on a chair,
staring seductively at her.
“Darling!” she squealed and ran to him, squeezing herself
into the chair with him.
He put his arms around her and kissed her passionately. It
was perfect—everything she had wished for.
Then Channing said, “Now don’t you wish you’d never had me
fixed?”
Adapted from the story “Three Wishes” in Frank de Caro’s The Folktale Cat (August House, 1992).
Illustration via Adobe Stock.
Reminder!
The Pet Photo Fails Blog Hop happens right here tomorrow! So get out those not-quite-right pet photos and be ready to hop and have some Friday fun.
The Linky will open at 12:01 a.m.
All pets are welcome!
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