It’s the worst time of year if you’re a cat in a Christmas-y house. The tinsel, the tree, the wrapping paper. They hate it.
Last Christmas, Ghost Cat was still living up to her name and she didn’t go near the Christmas tree. She spent her days and nights wailing in the hall and running away when a breeze whispered in the leaves. This year our rescue cat is more adventurous. She’s ready to take on the holiday that all cats hate: Christmas. I’m not in a position to explore the reasons behind the collective cat sabotage efforts of this holiday, but I’m guessing it has something to do with the devil.
Anyway, my friend Sunshine has about 1000 house cats (give or take) and she is constantly posting photos of murdered Christmas trees on her Facebook. She can’t have nice Christmas things: the cats won’t stand for it (I don’t know why she keeps trying. Probably she’s an optimist, which is also probably why she has so many cats).
Thankfully, we haven’t had a Christmas tree murder at our house. Ghost Cat is too subtle for that. She just sneaks in and drinks all the water from the tree water thing. She’s the type of cat who would poison you slowly. There are other, more delusional types of cats (like Sunshine’s) that just attack Christmas trees ten times as tall as them. They’re the kamikaze cats as opposed to the assassin cats. Once I had a cat who spent all of Christmas morning attacking unwrapped Christmas paper, a war of futility if I ever saw one.
Even though my cat hates Christmas, I love it. I have been looking forward to it all year (it seems). Now that it’s practically here, I just feel like wearing pajamas and watching cartoons. I am deeply offended that there is a pile of unfolded laundry on the couch, and I don’t feel like cooking. Last year on this exact day I was making two different kinds of cookies, but this year I am pretending I don’t have presents to wrap and my kids are binge watching Puss and Boots.
I think moms can feel an obligation to make holiday magic, and that is a good thing because APPARENTLY THESE PRESENTS AREN’T GOING TO WRAP THEMSELVES. I have to be careful though, or I end up like the cats in my life: aggressive and out to destroy Christmas. It can be stressful. There’s no shame in my pajama game, because I know that the true meaning of Christmas has nothing to do with the Christmas-y things the cats are out to destroy. Wrapping presents isn’t even on the top ten list of Christmas Meanings. I’m kind of annoyed that my procrastination hasn’t yielded a magical elf to do it for me. It used to work, back when I lived with my mother. Now I’m the mother so…to tape-ing I go!
I’m sure Ghost Cat will be full of rejoicing when this holiday is over and the tree is gone, but her water won’t be minty anymore. If you have a cat, has your tree survived? Is your cat an assassin cat like mine is, or are they less subtle?
Happy Christmas (unless you’re a cat)!