My cat, Stella, doesn’t celebrate Christmas as much as wage war with it. I don’t entirely blame her, seeing how, come December, she has to contend with things like a giant tree in the house and carolers at the door. I decided to ask her if she wanted to skip the fuss this year.
Hey Stella, I was thinking we should skip decorating the house this Christmas, given what happened last year.
What happened last year? Christmas was GREAT last year.
Are you kidding? You knocked off the tree ornaments, for starters.
So? What’s a few busted candy canes?
I mean you knocked off ALL the tree ornaments. Like 50 of them.
It’s not my fault Christmas ornaments look like cat toys.
Did the wreath on the front door look like a cat toy?
There was a bird in it.
A papier-mâché turtle dove, which you atomized. Then, you turned toward the mantel, sliding an entire 19th century Dickensian cityscape onto the ground, piece by piece.
Ah, what an experience. I felt like a god. I slept like a rock after that.
And then you went to the NEIGHBOR’S house.
There were STRANGERS on the lawn!
What you did to that nativity scene was unforgivable.
I am actually sorry about that. I got caught up in the symbolism of the moment.
I still can’t show my face at the HOA meetings.
But I won’t apologize for the reindeer. I’m a fearsome predator.
They were plastic, Stella.
But nicely painted. Very realistic. At least I didn’t touch the cow.
It was a donkey. And you shredded it.
Oh, right. The fog of war, etc.
So, given all that, I say we just have a second Thanksgiving this year and remove all temptation.
You can’t cancel Christmas. I still have some unfinished business. *evil meow*
Was that an evil meow?
Of course not. *evil meow*
You’re thinking about the Elf on the Shelf, aren’t you?
Magical elf that changed locations every night? Barely escaped with his life last year?
Oh, him. Swell guy. A little devious, if you must know the truth. How’s he doing, anyway?
He’s in one piece, and he’ll be staying in the North Pole this year.
OH, COME ON! Some psycho-eyed elf MOCKS me in my own house, and he doesn’t pay? Where’s your Christmas spirit?
It went in the trash can with all the vases you broke in pursuit of the elf. Also the clock. And the lamp. You did a lot of damage.
Jeez, you’re a regular Scrooge. Can I still slide some snow globes off the table?
Hang from the Christmas lights?
But he breaks in through the chimney and steals cookies!
You know what? Fine. If you actually see Santa, you can ambush him. Just don’t destroy anything else.
Thank you. I’d better start practicing.
On the mailman.
Editor’s note: This article appeared in Catster magazine. Have you seen the new Catster print magazine in stores? Or in the waiting room of your vet’s office? Subscribe now to get Catster magazine delivered straight to you!
Thumbnail: Photography courtesy Michael Leaverton.
About the author:
Stella, a Bengal, has a firm grip on her handler, freelance writer Michael Leaverton, whom she rescued from an alt weekly many meals ago. They live in San Diego.