Showing posts with label Christmas stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas stories. Show all posts

Monday, January 7, 2013

Turkey, Catnip, and Other Good Stuff -- by KittyCat




What’s good about Christmas? Well, for one thing, Mom and Dad get real busy. This year, they were busy as ever. On top of that cuz the flu shot zapped Mom pretty good, she cancelled a bunch of stuff. The best bump off her winter to-do list was my annual doctor’s appointment.

But the very best thing about Christmas is turkey. Dad doesn't like it, so I get lots. I get so much I don’t mind sharing with my tabby friend, Snookie, who spent Christmas with us. I even didn't care that Mom gave some to Meaka.

Meaka is a German shepherd, a dog that walks by our place with his mom, Dagmar. She’s a German human. The first time I heard Mom say that name, I got confused.  The lady was some distance away, and Mom, holding the garden hose, called to her, “Dagmar!” I kinda though it was strange—hearing Mom swear at someone and threaten them with a blast from the garden hose. I swear, Dagmar is the lady’s name. And I had it wrong. Mom had plants to share with Dagmar, and was getting ready to put water in a pot for Meaka cuz it was hot outside.

Aunt Pen forgot to bring Snookie’s stocking, so we just had one filled between us. We got lots of treats and some little cans of yummy food. Mom’s catnip plants died last summer, so she bought a bag. “It’s not organic or even USA-grown” she said to Dad. “I hope their hair doesn't fall out.” I figured she was just making jokes. But just in case, I let Snookie play with her catnip-filled toys before I touched mine. Ha, ha. Snookie thought I was being real nice letting her be first.

I was pretty nice to Snook the whole time she was here. Snook always got her breakfast first. I let her have the office chair, and didn’t use her litter pan. I even let her sit beside Mom on the sofa when she wanted to.

“You must be sick,” said Snook one day. “ You've actually allowed me to get some attention.”

And there’s lots of Snook, the flabby tabby, to get attention. Tempting, but I didn’t say that out loud. Truth is, I did have a tummy ache. Like I said, Mom gets real busy at Christmas. That day she didn’t notice when I ate my breakfast and most of Snook’s. I ended up with the runs.

Tons of food is what’s not so good about Christmas. But at the time I forget all that from the year before, and just remember the best parts. I'll bet you do, too.

© Bernice W. Simpson

Monday, December 26, 2011

Climbing the Christmas Tree -- by KittyCat

Mom’s forever calling me her sweet kitty angel. Well, I didn’t make a very good “kitty angel” on the Christmas tree. I didn’t even make it to the top before it tilted. Since our Christmas tree stood in a corner, the walls caught and held it even after I jumped down.

Nothing got broken. That includes me, cuz Mom was out at the time.

“What happened to the tree?” She spotted it before she took her keys from the door lock.

“What tree?” Dad, home a few minutes before her, hadn’t even noticed.

“What tree-ee.” Mom grabbed her keys from the door and kicked it closed with the back her shoe. “How many trees do we have in the living room?” She plopped two bags on the dining room table, and you can bet she gave Dad that look.

Her question wasn’t really a question. It was one of Mom’s “where’s your brain” comments.

I pretended to be asleep on Dad’s jacket, still warm cuz he’d just taken it off and dumped it in a chair. Its fuzzy insides all nice and crumpled like that kinda make a comfy nest for me.

Dad was tired, and interested in finding a football game with his new remote. When his mind’s on football, Dad act likes he’s not the sharpest claw on a paw. He ignored Mom’s snap-to-attention tone.

In a flat voice Mom said every word real clear and slow. “The tree ... and that would be the Christmas tree ... is leaning into the corner of the living room wall. But for wall holding the Christmas tree, everything on it would be smashed.”

“Oh.” Still holding his remote, Dad went into the living room and stood the tree up. Then, walking toward the TV, and almost talking to the remote, he said “KittyCat probably knocked it over.”

I’m thinking I’m done for, but before I got real terrified, Mom disagreed, and her usual cheerful voice was back.

“No, he showed no interest in it when I decorated it. Besides, he would have knocked ornaments off. Guess when setting it up, I didn’t quite balance it.”

Whew! Every now and then I get a pass.

Curled up real cozy, I fell asleep.