Louise was dead to begin with. This was a fact. Once she had been part of a great tree, then granted new life when an apprentice carved her, named her and placed her beside the Baron.
Baron was the chief, and only, mourner of her passing. To the rest of the world she appeared as ever she had – a fine doll, delicately carved and beautiful. She had been bought, and he was glad to see her go, for it pained him to see her forever-lifeless wooden body standing there.
He closed his heart to the world, shrouding it in ice and perfect manners. His home became known as the Cat Bureau, rather than Humbert & Louise – he had changed the sign, shutting out all memory of emotion.
"Merry Christmas Baron," Muta said, bursting through the door with a wreath hanging from his neck.
"Merry Christmas Muta," he answered cordially, stifling the urge to cry "Bah!" and throw up his paperwork in frustration.
Tomorrow was Christmas. Muta and Toto had worked together, sweeping up snow and decorating the refuge with tinsel and coloured lights, setting up a nativity scene around Toto's pillar, from which they had hung a star. There was even a tree with a few gifts underneath it out there.
Inside the Bureau, however, was a different matter. There was a long on the fire, and Muta had left a little holly lying on the mantelpiece, but otherwise, Baron had done nothing to festivitate his home and office.
"What's this? Not a thing but my left over holly?" the large cat exclaimed. He searched a moment to see if there was some other minute thing that the Baron might have done that he had missed. Finding that there wasn't, he confronted his friend.
"I'm not in the mood, Muta. Go carolling with Toto, leave me in peace," the elegant orange gentleman said, rising from his desk and filing away the last of the day's papers.
"What's the matter?" he wanted to ask, but he knew he wouldn't be told. Baron didn't discuss his feelings; often he pretended not to have them, which infuriated Muta no end. Rather than waste his breath, Muta shrugged and, leaving the wreath on Baron's desk, bid him goodnight.
Baron ignored the wreath, just as he had left the holly, and made himself a cup of tea before turning out the lights, sitting in darkness relieved only by the glow of his fire.