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It was winter time in the small border town of Partridge Drums, and the holidays were here. The Cubs' Choir had performed on Christmas Eve, and had been eager to return home, waiting for Santa to bring them gifts. They had performed at the local District Recreation Hall. Now, the thing about this tiny town is that it was divided into Districts. Granted, there were other places that there were divided such, but Partridge Drums was different. The border between the U.S and Canada ran right through, and a running joke was made about this. There was a road in this town, and it was officially known as Border Road. The joke was that someone would say that they crossed the border in one step. But back to the Districts, if but for a moment. The first District was flatlands and swamp, and was given the name of, what else but, The Swamp. Furs from this district were given the name Swamp Furs, and James was such a cat. The second District was known as Saint's Landing, and this was where the governmental buildings, as well as a church, were located. From this district, the Partridge Drums Council kept order. However, recent scandals, including one that involved the chief of police being sacked, shook the people's faith in the Council. Medical services are also in this district, however, firefighters were evenly distributed throughout the town. Each District had a fire station, but all served the same Fire Department, and all were volunteers. The third District was simply called The Island, and served as a link between the town and Canada, and featured the only sports arena around, the Giant Turtle.

But, of course, the time for reminiscing was over. Driving in a old Toyota coupe, a hand-me-down, James was driving towards the only attraction that was worth anything in Partridge Drums, the Resort and Casino complex. He had been invited to a fancy holiday dinner, courtesy of the resort's Public Relations Committee. You see, one of his relatives, who worked at the resort, decided that the puma didn't have to spend the holidays alone, and decided to cheer him up. He took the invite, and now wore his signature purple outfit. Purple business coat, purple slacks, white business shirt, and a purple tie. His signature outfit, the one that everyone knew that was him, made quite an impression, in fact. As he pulled into the parking lot, he looked around. There was snow on the ground, and the temperature was about freezing. He had a black overcoat that buttoned in the front, and this he had in the front seat of his car. He pulled on his coat and walked over to the doorway of the casino. The pavement was cold on his paws, but his pads kept him warm. The building before him was a grand complex, red and white being the primary colours. The building was a modern estate, built with mortar, steel, and concrete. The entrance was under a red roofed extension, for buses, drop offs, and pick ups. Already James could see a bus full of the elderly, greymuzzles who came to play the holiday bingo specials.

"Your ID?" One of the security guards, a grey wolf, stopped him at the door. The security guard was dressed in a burgundy outfit, no tie. He had a pistol on a holster, and a radio on his belt. James reached into his wallet, a brown leather thing with a wing design on it. There was a joke that it meant that his money would fly away, and he'd be broke. "Here." He handed the guard his ID, and he was let through the door.

Once inside, he was astounded by the grandeur of the place. There was a carpet that was marked with a red path, this led to the buffet area. The marked path led through the gambling area, as evidenced by the various sounds of the slot machines going off. The ringing that would accompany a rare win would also be occasionally heard. The lights here were colourful and cool, blues, greens, and light reds. The walls were dark blue, some sort of soft material. The only other lighting were a mélange of various garish displays from the gaming machines. He recognized various shows and such adapted for being used in a casino. One of which was obviously Wheel of Fortune, given that there was the iconic wheel with its various markings. Walking past the various patrons and gamblers, he reached the hotel part of the complex. The hotel had been built under the orders of the casino owners, supposedly the town itself. The hotel had your typical décor of gold and whatever the season colour was, in this case white. There were four dining rooms, large areas meant for conferences. The one he was directed to was the Winter Room, obviously ironic. The other three were named after the other seasons, respectively.

The room was completely white, save for a few turquoise wall hangings and ribbons. Even the silverware was washed to a unseemly brightness. It almost hurt his eyes. As a matter of fact, it did. He help up a handpaw in front of his face, blinded for a few seconds.

"Hey! Are you alright?"

One of the other guests, a ermine in a green sweater vest and black jeans, went over to James. She put a handpaw on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off. "I'm fine." He didn't care to ask her name, he just wanted to sit down. Taking off his coat, he hanged it on the chair he was going to sit at. This chair was at one of the long tables they had set out for the dinner, and it was right in the middle. When he sat down, he looked at the settings before him. Everything was white, the tablecloth, the plates, and the glasses. These were the size of your average wineglass, and were not decorated. Now that James thought about it, he had a cousin who did glasswork, maybe he could have her do something with these... But probably not. The waiters were all dressed in white, and there was a buffet table set up.

"What would you like to drink... Mr..."

"Puma, James Puma."

"Ah, yes. Mr. Puma. Ms. Delila told us that you'd be here."

"Of course. She sent in the invitation on my behalf, right?"

The waiter was a red fox, dressed in white, his red fur a contrast to his clothing. He had a list of guests in his handpaw, and was looking over it, finding James's name. He nodded.

"A soda, please."

The waiter gave him a incredulous look, but went to get his drink. James got up from his seat and went over to the buffet line. Being a predator, he craved his meats. The buffet line didn't disappoint, with various helpings of chicken, beef, fish, and pork being the main entrees. He promptly piled his plate high with pork chops, a brief salad, and a side helping of spicy chicken. He walked back to his table and his seat, just in time to see the Chairman of the establishment, along with the members of the Partridge Drums Council. The Chairman was an enigmatic figure, a mustelid of some kind, James could never figure out what he was. He was dressed in an exorbitant red suit, the dark colour matching his fur. It was customary for the Chairman to give a holiday speech, and greet the members of the Council. He didn't know anyone on Council, and was fine with that. He was of those who were dissatisfied with the Council on their performance during the period of recent scandals. In particular, the Council had not elected a new Chief of Police, and the town worried about criminals from the outside.

"Good evening, members of the Council and invited guests! I am the Chairman of this wonderful resort in your wonderful town. I wish everyone here a Happy Holidays," At which everyone cheered, "and a spectacular New Year! Now, on to business. As you may well know, our dear Council has the town go without a police chief for how long? A month? Our private security force has kept the criminals at bay and your people safe, for the time being. Now, as you all may know, finding a new Police Chief has been... problematic, you could say. But worry not, I trust that the Council will make the right decision."

James didn't like long, boring speeches, but he would tolerate it. Looking around in his seat, he noticed a few other felines like him. The guests were multiple species, some who looked like they weren't even from the town, either out of province or out of state, one of the two.

Then there were the scents. His nose could pick up multiple scents, felines, canines, even a couple of rodents. Their scent was... slightly unpleasant, but tolerable. One of the other cats, a red lion, looked over at him. He looked like he was from out of town, and dressed in a black suit. His fur was a lighter red than James's, but his mane shone with vigor. "Hey there." The lion was sitting a few seats away, on James's right. Next to him was a lioness dressed in pearls and satin, obviously his mate. They both were eating large quantites of fish, which looked like boiled haddock.

"I've never seen you around here. Do you gamble here?" Hopefully it wasn't a stupid or obvious questions. The lioness answered him.

"Yes, me and my mate are Gold Winner's Club members, who are you?"

James was eating his chicken, savouring the spicy taste of the sauce and meat on his tongue. His predator's teeth made quick work of the chicken, and he swallowed as he answered her.

"I'm James, James Puma. Local writer."

"Ohh, you mean the writer of Neko Lives and Culture and Endless Days, Bountiful Nights? The one about that free love community of cats, you're him?" She sure sounded excited.

"Yeah. I'm him. What's it to you?"

The look on her face... priceless. Her eyes, which were a light blue, lit right up. Her muzzle went into a grin. She pulled out a small little book, and gave it to him. "My name's Elincia Winstone, and this is my mate Grey. Can I have your autograph?" She looked at him, questioning.

"Well, I don't have a pen..." He looked on, sheepishly, having finished his chicken. He began to cut apart his steak, he loved them boneless. He used his fork and a steak knife.

"Here, use mine." James looked from his steak to see Grey reach into his suit pocket and take out a gold pen. He clicked it open, and passed it over to James.

"We're both fans of your work, I hope you don't mind..."

"No, not at all," James said, taking the pen after putting down his fork and knife, "I just didn't expect my writing to be so well known. Small publisher and all that." He didn't think he was that well known, was he? He honestly thought that only maybe a small few towns knew about him. But this... Gold Winner's Club members were generally rich or lucky. He was leaning towards lucky, as they didn't give off that snobbish air that the rich did. They must be very lucky, indeed.

"Not to be obvious, Mrs. Winstone, but are you from around here?" He asked her softly.

He signed her little book on the first page, a signature with pressure, with poise. With what poise one could have in with a forkful of steak in one handpaw, anyway.

"There, keep it safe." He said to her as he gave the book back to her. There were other signatures in there, including a certain Blackwolf, a writer that James admired. Among other names were a singer, an artist by the name of Alec something or the other, and a name he didn't recognize, Charlene Tharla, or some name that started with a T. "You have quite the collection of names here. Do you and your mate travel often?" She and her mate were eating their fish by piecemeal, cutting it into tiny pieces. They were eating well, but it looked like the couple were slowing down.

He'd signed it with "From an author with Love." Right below Blackwolf's signature, no less. The puma respected the wolf, having been a fan of him for some years now. He was impressed that these two gamblers knew who he was.

"You've read Blackwolf? Impressive, I'm a fan of his, myself. Ranger Squad's one of my favourites by him. He's a damned good writer, that's for sure."

"Mmm, we do travel, and have read him. Both me and my mate read him constantly, and our current favourite is... what was it called again, honey?" Her voice held a light growl, typical of feline dynamics. It was obvious who was dominant in the relationship. It was instinctive, or so some furs said, a sad but true fact of having feline blood.

"Well... it was some book on self improvement, or was it metaphysics and energy? Something like 'Harnessing Your Inner Energy' or something like that." Grey shrugged his shoulders and continued eating. James hmmm'd and dabbed at his face with a napkin, steak sauce surrounding his muzzle, a black stain that stuck out on his white facial fur. Whenever he ate his steaks, sauce always came into play, as long as it didn't stain his clothing. Then there'd be a reaction worthy of a soap opera on TV. He couldn't stand dirty or stained clothes. They were unclean, and he didn't like unclean things. Clothes were sent to the wash... and he didn't notice that Elincia was talking to him.

"... and so, we use it to relax, and calm our nerves."

"Sorry," he said, looking up from his steak and his thoughts, "I wasn't paying attention. What are you talking about?"

"Why, catnip and wine, of course." Grey looked up from his fish to James. That made James pause. Catnip, the wonder drug for all felines. He'd read online that it was approved for domestic cats, but affects on wildcats such as him and the Winstones were unknown. Some who used it swore that it improved mood. Others said it was a potent aphrodisiac, but as far as he knew, no one could prove it.

"We take it as in a pipe, one of those old wooden ones, his grandsire's, to be exact." Elincia gestured to her mate. "We usually do it in the nighttime, and on our anniversary."

James was tackling the last item on his dish, the pork chops. He had them doused in a large portion of Worchestershire sauce. He picked them up one by one with his fork, after devouring his salad. The salad had been from the buffet line, meaning he could have anything he wanted in it. He couldn't stand peppers, onions, or radishes, but he loved cucumbers. "Your anniversary, how many years?" The sauce was excellent, a bit bland, but it was good enough for his tastes.

"This would make it, what, honey, our second year? Yeah, our second year together."

"Well, I wish you even more to come." James raised his glass of soda. "Do you have any kittens?" Considering that they were a mated couple, then why not have kittens? Kittens were an essential part of any family, or so the Ministry of Reproduction said. The Ministry was a governing body that monitored every species, it was rumoured to have been in service pre-Transformation, but no one really remembered, or cared. It was said that the head of the Ministry was a proud mother to countless kittens, but there were other species within the Ministry that could boast such.

"No, I'm afraid. But it doesn't hurt to try." Grey said, morosely. The lion seemed... almost glum.

"I see, more's the pity then." Families were expected to have kittens, it was the norm, apparently. The last pork chop went down James' gullet, and the puma decides to call it an evening. It was getting late, and traffic could be murder in these parts, especially during the holidays.

"I have to go, it's getting late. Have a safe and Happy New Year, and Merry Christmas." With that, he got up, took his coat from his seat and put it on. He waved good bye to the Winstones. They wished him a Happy New Year, and he walked out of the conference room into the hallway. It was good timing, as the hallway was starting to get crowded from guests leaving their rooms.

* * *

It was a good thing that James left when he did, the hallways of the hotel were getting cramped. The puma didn't like crowds. The parking lots were even worse. He got his ID back from the guard, and went back to his car. The car had a little trouble starting up, but the engine caught and sparked to life. It was expected in this climate, after all. Cold winters meant a slow start, day or night.

Driving his car carefully out of the parking lot, James reflected on what had happened. After waving good bye to the Winstones, he was given a card with their number on it. Seems his relative had some strings pulled, and he was invited to the Winstone estate for lunch, sometime in the spring. He'd consider it.

The car's radio was turned to his favourite radio station, 101.6 The Tiger, and his favourite late night host, Blind Sandy, was on. He only came on at night, generally around 10:00 or so at night. Given that the dinner was long and that he passed the time with talk, James wasn't surprised at all. As the radio played a forgotten song, he reflected on what had happened the past year, and what he would do next year. When he slipped into bed that night, comforted by the feel of his soft sheets. tired after such a day, the new year came without him, but he would be there in the morning.

Fin.