Tis the Season

On Friday evening, JT and I headed out to fetch our Christmas tree.  He loves this part of the season and we walked up and down the rows of trees, checking out our options, breathing in the pine air, and generally getting very excited.  Dozens of trees were reviewed; sizes were estimated.  Then we finally settled on our tree.  We loaded it into the car to drive it away.  We came home and placed it in the Christmas tree stand and set it out on the porch to shake out over night.

Yesterday, we brought the tree inside and set it in its usual corner.  Tiger and Lucy, who spend their lives indoors, are like junkies when they see and smell the tree.  We know the drill and set out to hang the lights and ornaments, carefully leaving off the most fragile ornaments and leaving decorations light on the bottom third of the tree.  The cats stalk about as we decorate the tree, claiming it for themselves and eager for that moment when we will leave them alone with the tree.

When we head upstairs for stories and bed, Tiger and Lucy join us as usual.  They don't want to miss their share of story-hour petting.  Then the lights go out and quiet descends.  As I lie in bed in the silence, I can hear the cats walk down stairs.  They plan to have their way with the tree.

I've learned my lesson and the tree is securely tied to the stair railing; it can't be pulled over.  So Tiger and Lucy must be content to victimize the ornaments.  And when I came downstairs this morning, the evidence was undeniable; nearly a dozen ornaments could be found strewn about the floor. The cats walked around my ankles while I checked out the damage, as if they are blameless in the carnage on the floor.  They have no idea what happened to that Santa in the coner.  The reindeer probably flew off the tree himself.  The shiny tin candy canes?  Those must have blown off in the storm.  It's a shame, really, what happened to that nice tree.  But they'd like some kibble, please.