The Christmas Cat

Oh, my distain for this holiday humans call Christmas. Don’t get me wrong I enjoy the lead up to the 25th day of the 12th month. Yes we cats are aware of time. We are aware of a lot of things, including your holidays. Now let’s get back to Christmas, well the time before: November 1 to December 24, all the Halloween decorations are down and the cats can finally come out. The only other day we hate more than Christmas is Halloween, but that’s another story.

The days before Christmas are always entertaining. We certainly enjoy all the ribbon dancing around the house and climbing the tree to inspect each dangling, sparkling ornament. My human puts them so high I have no choice but to leap up in the tree to start my annual count.

The lights and music are always more dazzling this time of year. It’s certainly nice to hear something more refined like Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra on the radio. I’m on my ninth life so I certainly appreciate the classics. I really don’t understand this modern day music with all it’s pop jingles and hip hop Chris Chringles. Fortunately, my human is well-trained. She listens to jazz and has a slightly more sophisticated taste. However, I feel slightly sorry for her as she doesn’t relate much to her own kind so she spends too much time trying to be with me. If only she would get out more than I could try to see what that plant tastes like on top of the fridge. But, I digress.

My human and I are often visited by the neighbourhood alley cat. She’s a bit of a flagrant but she delivers the juiciest gossip. Nothing is precious, except her name. Precious tells us about Tom and his daring adventures playing chicken as cars come barreling down the city streets. I listen to every word with intensity wondering how many lives this Tom cat may have. At my age, I prefer a life of luxury and domestication not to mention the elements outside my front door.

There is no snow here this Christmas, which is odd for Montreal. You see I’m a Toronto cat perhaps that’s why Precious and Tom intrigue me. Both can move seamlessly between two languages: human and cat. I, on the other hand, have tried but prefer to address Thomas as Tom and Précieux or Précieuse, meow! just as Precious. I prefer to keep things straight forward and simple, no frills, which probably contributes to my disdain for Christmas. Christmas invites new stuff to pop up from anywhere, disturbing my perfect surroundings. It seems, when I drift off for my afternoon nap, my human has moved or arranged a few things disrupting my daily patterns: 22 steps to the bathroom, 32 to food. And now some new chair has appeared adding three more steps to my routine making the walk odd instead of even. Thinking quick on my feet, I cut a layer out of this unfavourable chair with my nails. Purrfect, now it’s even.

Another thing I can’t stand about Christmas is that the lights are on all night, so my eyes have a hard time adjusting. I know at night, Ratatouille likes to sneak into our kitchen and it’s my duty to keep him out. Yes, some would argue he was here first but the division remains.

Of course on Christmas day you will see me with tinsel in my teeth chasing crumpled paper balls, but absolutely nothing can shake off the embarrassment of being dreadfully stuffed into a Christmas cat costume! Even the rat with his beret snickers mockingly while he stuffs his mouth with a giant gob of brie cheese.

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