Reviews for The cat who came for Christmas

The average rating for The cat who came for Christmas based on 2 reviews is 2.5 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2014-08-07 00:00:00 Janice Christiansen 1.) This really isn't a Christmas book. The cat of the title was rescued on Christmas Eve. It has a Christmas name ("Polar Bear"). Methinks it was packaged for the money-spending holiday back when bookstores were bursting with buyers eager for new stories about...cats. 2.) This cat was rescued from a Manhattan street in 1977. 1977! NYC at its filthiest, dimmest, and scariest. Before the Yuppies arrived. Poor grimy cat. 3.) This was written B.C.O.N. (Before Cats On Internet). Cleveland Amory was a pioneer in animal protection and he wrote several engaging books about Polar Bear. If he was writing today, there would be cute little GIFs about Polar Bear, with dancing reindeer. 4.) This is written under chapters titled as, His Foreign Policy, His Hollywood, His Fitness Program...you get the picture. Polar Bear OWNED Mr. Amory. 5.) Okay. I really like this book. Any human who sacrifices their lifestyle to rescue a 1977 New York feline is okay with me. Itty bitty witty kitty. Book Season = Winter (duh)

Review # 2 was written on 2019-12-21 00:00:00 Mike Squires Maisy, Gumbo, or Mabee read this book years ago and loved it, but this year, well, all I can say is this: It is not a Christmas story; instead it is a horror story. I am actually dramatizing this, but when I read a Christmas story, I don’t want to read about how lab cats are treated or how dolphins are slaughtered. I just want a cute story about an animal. Still, I admire Amory because he is an animal activist, but save me from this at Christmas. Now, it wasn’t too bad when he veered off the subject of his own cat and gave some history or other lessons on cats, but I really didn’t want that either. Maybe cats don’t do enough to merit an entire story of anyone’s cat. Even I have my own cat story, but I could probably only fill a page with it. And that is what I am going to do here: Our Thanksgiving Kitten We lost one of our cats this summer. She was a wonderful loving lap cat that had found me one summer when I was working in my garden. But, this isn’t about her, it is about a kitten who showed up just over a month or so ago and really wanted a home. My husband had informed me that a kitten had shown up at our feral cat feeding station. My thought was, Now, we have another cat to trap and get spayed. I was in no hurry but knew that it had to be done before she became pregnant. Yes, I figured it must be a female cat because she had been dumped here. Male cats usually don’t get dumped. Well, she was friendly and met us at the door, following us to the feral cat feeding station. She even wanted in our house, but my husband shooed her away. Knowing that she wasn’t allowed inside, she just sat at the door looking in or got in our front window and looked pitifully at us. I finally called a veterinarian. “Will you take her off our hands if we pay for shots, etc?” His answer came back a yes. I waited, and then I decided to tame her first. It would help get her a home, I realized. I sat out in the cold on our back porch and fed her the leftover Thanksgiving turkey. She warmed up to me. Such a pretty charcoal colored, black faced, long haired cat, I thought. My favorite for I love Persian cats I finally got her to come inside by placing the turkey scraps just inside the house. She was happy to be indoors, realizing that my husband would no longer chase her out. Our own cat, Taffy, hissed and hissed, and her scream reminded me of a gorilla beating his chest. I began to wonder if Taffy would ever accept her and felt that she would have to go to the vet to get a new home, but the pounding on Taffy’s chest lessens over the week. So, I named our new kitten Maisy, a name my husband said didn’t have a good ring to it. Well, I like Gumbo for a name, but he didn’t think that it had a good ring to it either. So, I told him that he could name the kitten. Maisy is a lap cat, while Taffy only likes my husband’s lap. If I sit in his chair, she likes my lap, too. What is up with that? At least Maisy likes my lap, but last night she was on my husband’s lap along with Taffy. We waited for the war to begin. It didn’t. But this is where her name takes a beating: We took MaISY to the vet for shots and deworming, and to see when she WOuld be old enough to be spayed. (Note: This was not the vet who would take her off our hands but a new veterinarian that just took over our old vet’s business.) He looked at her and said, “You will have to change her name because she is a boy.” And then he said that he could be neutered in a month. A boy? Who dumps boys? Not even China dumps boys. I told my husband that he didn’t have to live with the name, Maisy, which he didn’t care for. He knew that I liked Gumbo for a name, but it didn’t have the right ring to it either, so he thought about it and said, “How about Maubee?” Maubee? “Yes,” he said, “Maubee, the guy in our favorite movie, “The Mighty Quinn.” Mauabee, it is. So, you see, this is really not a great cat story either, but at least I have stayed on topic, not for this review, but for the kitten story.