Trading Up

“Trading up” is an American luxury. When your car gets old, you trade up for a new one. When your family outgrows your apartment, you trade up for a house with a mortgage. When a man’s wife turns forty, he trades up for two twenty-year-olds. Most Americans view this practice not as a luxury, but as a Constitutional right bestowed by Heaven and the Founding Fathers upon everyone fortunate enough to be born within the boundaries of the fifty United States.

Being a wandering gypsy who has never managed to stay in the same house more than five months at a time over the past three years means that trading up on anything is far out of my financial reach.

But this Christmas may change that.

I happened across a picture of an adorable, fuzzy kitten with big, blue eyes. It had a red bow tied around its neck, reading “Merry Christmas.” My heart skipped a beat.

Here was a pet I could really enjoy! I imagine this tiny, fluffy kitten small enough to curl up in my hand. It does not yowl and screech like Scam. It does not skate up and down the hardwood floors of the hall at night like Con. It does not bite me on the foot. It mews gently and sleeps in its kitty bed with a big red bow tied around its neck.

I must have one! I’ll name it Bitty Kitty.

What about Scam and Con? Those feline fiends would eat my little kitty for lunch and then claim they only had salad with ranch dressing. It was easy to picture them picking their eager teeth with Bitty Kitty’s bones and flossing with the big red bow.

Furthermore, Scam and Con have reigned as King and Queen in my roommate Tiny’s home for twelve years. Through the ups and downs of her life, Scam and Con have been there. They were there through hard times at work and at home, breakups, heartache, despair, financial trials, and chipped manicures.

Obviously, those two cats are bad luck.

I approached Tiny with the picture of Bitty Kitty. She is emotionally attached to the feline fiends, and they are like children to her. Needless to say, this is a situation requiring caution, empathy, and tact.

“Tiny,” I began, tactfully, “Let’s get rid of your cats.”

Her eyes bugged. I could see the idea had never occurred to her.

I lowered my voice to a cautious, empathetic tone, “Let’s throw them out in the snow. They won’t suffer long.”

“How could you say that?” Her voice warbled with unshed tears, so I knew my caution, tact, and empathy had touched her heart deeply. It was working!

Time to break out the secret weapon—the picture! “This is Bitty Kitty.”

“Are you crazy?”

“It’s trading up! We throw the old, worn-out kitties and the snow and trade up for this new, shiny model.”

“You know nothing about kittens, do you?”

“I know everything about them. They are tiny, cute, and quiet.”

“They’re hyper, mean, and destructive. They’re also temporary,” Tiny shook her head, “Within a few months, your Bitty Kitty will be gone, and we’ll just have one more cat in the house.”

I pondered her words. Were they a trick to throw me off the trail? The trail of a Scam-and-Con-free life?

Yes, it was a trick, but it did not work for long. Logic was on my side.

“If she turns into a cat, we’ll throw her out in the snow and trade up again. It is the American way of life.”

Indulging in the American way of life is a grand, patriotic gesture, but Tiny was unable to understand or appreciate my patriotism. She withdrew from the room, taking her precious, four-legged villains with her.

I always suspected she was a communist, but I never thought she would take it this far!