Scottish Wildcats in Kilts
A
Blaring, some called it music; others called it noise. It was the melody of the bagpipes and it was certainly getting everyone moving. The swirling of the kilts the excited mewling cats as they twirled their partners on the dance floor.
Indeed, it was a special day for all. A day of celebration as the clan chief’s youngest daughter had just meowed her vows to the feuding rival clan’s chief. For some, it was a celebration of unity joining the clans together as one. All were purring with happiness, even the Paw Clan. Whispers of hope that the marriage of these two lovely cats would stop the feuding forever could be heard all around.
With a Cheshire grin of happiness, the groom sat with his bride. His mind wandering to the day they met and the events that led up to this, the happiest day in his nine lives.
Yes, he reflected on the day when she drifted out of her territory and had ventured into his. As he came upon her, he was surprised she was so docile. She had not hissed nor tried to attack him. As he neared her, he realized she had hurt her paw. He went over to her gently taking her paw and licking it. She started purring as the softness of his touch made her pain fade. Yes, she knew he was helping her, and she was very content in letting him lick her paw to get rid of the thorn that was stuck in it.
So, it began the secret rendezvous. From that day forward, they would go their separate ways in the evenings and join again in the morning’s light.
After many secretive months, he went to her father to ask for her hand in marriage. Unfortunately, her father was heartbroken about the union, and he was met with growling and hissing. Her father told him he would never give his blessing to the marriage, and if she wanted to go with him, she would no longer be welcome in his home. This upset his bride deeply, but she did not relent. She told her father, “This is a chance to unite us all. You and you alone are the one that will lose out on life by keeping the feud going.”
During the wedding ceremony, when the Minister asked if anyone objected to their union, the tension in the church could be felt by all. The whole congregation turned around and looked at the door. All expected it to burst open the door. All expected it to burst open by the paws of the father of the bride rushing in to protest.
Nothing, just the silence of the guests, gaping wide-eyed at the doors tails flicking. No chief, no protest, a large sigh of relief from all. The Minister, wiping his brow with the back of his paw, looked relieved as he told me I could finally kiss my bride.
Oh, that was the happiest of times. I bent down we licked each other softly and rubbed our noses together. As the Minister pronounced us husband and wife a howling cheer went up as we turned, bowed and curtsied to the congregation then followed the Minister to do our paw work and make it legal.
When we emerged from the church office, our paws entwined, we took our final walk down the aisle as I shouted to all, “Let the merriment begin!”
The reception was such a delight. The bagpipers were piping, and we were both dancing and purring with happiness. I was so happy the father of my bride had not disrupted the marriage and upset my new wife.
My beautiful wildcat, the youngest daughter of the rival clan chief. Her Mum had attended the wedding and she never once mentioned anything about her husband. Sadly, my new bride was upset and happy at the same time. Happy that her Mum understood what it was to find happiness and love, and bore witness to her wedding. Sad that her father did not push aside his feelings and made an effort to see her wed
She was beautiful with the traditional tartan sash around her neck and tartan frills on her dress. I admired her for designing her wedding dress and insisting she fit the clan tartan of his kilt onto her sash and frills, showing we were united as one. Yes, what a beauty she was, I thought to myself. She not only had the kindest loving ways about her, but she was also so gentle for a wildcat. Yes, I knew I was so fortunate.
Now, in the ballroom enjoying the dancing and twirling of the kilts, we were all startled. The doors burst open, and there her father stood. Oh dear, the bagpipers stopped piping, the dancers stopped dancing. The room was silent as all eyes were on her father standing at the door.
Her father started to come towards her and quick as a flash pulled out his sword. The entire room gasped as he brought it down on my shoulders, as he shouted, “My love for my daughter has brought me to my senses. I anoint my daughter’s husband as a member of my clan as well, so that we can be happy and stop the feuding. I cannot be happy without my daughter in my life! It is breaking my heart.”
Sobbing with happiness, my bride quickly hugged her Dad. Mum came running over saying to her husband, at last, you got your senses back.
Meow to ye all!
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Alison A. MacRae is a self-taught writer and photographer born in Glasgow, Scotland. While attending secondary school In Yoker, Glasgow. Alison was introduced to the wonderful subject of History and the secrets it held. Throughout her life, she lived in U.A.E. Caribean, Texas and at the age of 17 took permanent residence In Canada. With her passion for writing and photography, Alison’s current residence is Hope Town Quebec. It is the ideal location to photograph wildlife. It is well worth the abundance of patience and stamina it takes to capture the perfect photos, some of which have been seen on National Television, Global National T.V. and the Weather Network.. To her credit Alison has written a Scottish Faerie novel, which she is looking to publish, as well her short story submission won first prize and a place in a book called Homegrown A collection of Gaspesian writings. . You may know Alison’s work from the Celtic Guide Magazine, no longer publishing. Currently, Alison writes for the Celtic Nations Magazine.
