Now You Have It, Now You Don't...

What's a holiday season without a little after-Christmas bartering? "I'll trade you Aunt Gertrude's knitted sweater vest for Uncle Ralph's fruitcake..." It starts at my husband's extended family reunion, where we all bring holiday leftovers to pawn off at a potluck meal, then gather around long tables for the favorite "now-you-have-it, now-you-don't" game, a wild free-for-all where dozens of relatives fight over wrapped white-elephant gifts via a bingo-type lottery. You never know what you'll end up with - last year the largest (and most sought-after) gift turned out to be a hideous wreath in a color that can only be called "puke-green," while a small box in plain wrapping delighted it's recipient with a generous gift card. This year Megan invited a friend along to the reunion - a young man bold enough to meet the relatives and who also brought a tasty buffalo chicken dish that was the high point of the meal!

We explained to him the rules of the "present game," but when he triumphantly grabbed his chosen gift to unwrap, my sister-in-law whispered to me, "Oh no! We brought that one..." just as he tore off the gold paper to reveal a set of glitter nail polish in sparkly pinks and purples. Oops. Fortunately Megan unwrapped a pair of leather driving gloves, and the trade was complete. Across the table one of the cousins gleefully exchanged glow-in-the-dark underwear for a pound of chocolates, and everyone was happy.

Fast forward to this morning, a lovely Epiphany luncheon hosted by one of my friends. As we feasted on such delicacies as curried quinoa salad and baked brie in a candied plum sauce, one of the other guests pulled up a photo on her phone - two adorable kittens abandoned in her barn and in need of a new home, she explained, adding that she is unable to keep them because of a severe cat allergy. Helping myself to a slice of seafood quiche, I quipped my standard answer - "I'll trade you two goats for two cats!" (After all, she already has the barn and several horses, and I do love cats...)  But no deal. She explained that she is already too busy caring for her daughter's dog, a neurotic terrier with a severe anxiety disorder, chronic vomiting and exceptionally sharp teeth - apparently he has already bitten six people.

Over blueberry crumble cake I considered my options. Two sweet kittens tiny enough to tuck in a coat pocket - compare that to scurs and hoof trimming and crusty scabs and parasite injections and lime sulfur baths and frozen water bowls and mounds of droppings and shivering outside on frigid nights trying to coax a reluctant goat to pee...I had to try.

"How about this?" I offered, reaching for another gingerbread star. "For two goats, I'll give both kittens a home (deep breath here - time to sweeten the deal)...and I'll even take the dog."

Apparently their reputation precedes them. They are still here.