The Christmas season begins at 220 N Ashtree Way when the big, dusty plastic boxes are dragged inside from the garage by the MAN. I do not recognize his presence in the family. He has been known to chase Angel, the other cat and me with a shooing sound out of his closet.
This annoys me because I like to roll around on his big soft sweaters, leaving hair everywhere. He even squirts us with water when we jump on the kitchen counters. How’s a cat suppose to get a drop of fresh water if not from the sink?
All his heavy lifting is done after my mistress has cajoled him over dinner. I flick my tail in anticipation. I love Christmas! The teenage human and her friend are in charge of tree decorating. This leads to many amusements for Angel, my subordinate and I.
First, the tree with its bright green bristles has to be assembled. The portable boom box is turned up very loud, blasting out current hit music. The girls sing and dance while assembling the tree. Private Shani, the sheltie, runs in circles barking. Shani is a silly harmless creature whom I generally ignore. While the girls are gyrating, Angel, my assistant and I jump in and out of the tree box and then scamper over the tree skirt. We jointly roll it in a ball. The girls are incensed because they are holding the tree and have to put the tree down to straighten the skirt before putting on the lights. This leads to high pitched shrieking, “Get the cats out of here!” I am so-o proud. I stare at them dispassionately as if I don’t know the trouble I have caused.
After the lights, come the balls, this is my favorite part of tree decorating. The girls are told by the mistress to only put unbreakable balls near the bottom of the tree because of the CATS (That’s Angel and me). We are capable of batting the ornaments off the lower limbs throughout the Christmas season. I take great pride in planning a stealthy attack on the tree most nights. The most precious ornaments, the glass birds with feathers are at the top of the tree.
This causes me great angst. I spend hours patiently waiting at the bottom of the tree for one of these beauties to miraculously fall into my mouth. I did manage to break one of the six collectible eggs from Prague this year. My pride overflows at this feat! Like an Agatha Christie play, now there are only five. I have nine lives so I’m sure to finish them off before I go to the great beyond.
We are ten days out from Christmas. Angel has taken to chewing on the poinsettia flowers, scattered around the house. This shows you her tiny brain, poinsettias are poisonous. I, of course, am above nibbling on stupid plants. I have much bigger fish to fry. I have managed to knock the peasants littering my stairway perch down three times, a major accomplishment. This act causes a lot of frenetic human activity as the silly stuffed toys are replaced. As if they were adding to my home—which any cat knows they are not.
Yesterday, I discovered the hiding place for the catnip toys that go in my stocking. I knocked over the basket holding my gifts and tore off the tissue paper. I had just about torn into my surprise when my mistress chased me out of the Christmas room. She almost slammed the door on my tail!
Today, my college boy emailed a cartoon of me to my mistress (see link below) I didn’t realize others found me as attractive as my family does. My favorite ploy is to ask to go out and then sit at the open door staring at nothing. The MAN has taken to counting to 3 and shutting the door. The mistress pulls me out by my collar. The teenager ignores me the same way I ignore her.
I am having a very merry, naughty Christmas. I wish the same to all you cyber cats out there.