My Cats are Christmas Bullies
After sweeping up yet another mound of pine needles in the morning, I decided it was time to spy on my cats to find out what was happening to the Christmas tree at night. It was looking visibly depressed and saggy-branched, but when I would ask it what was wrong, it would just shrug its ornaments and sigh.
So that night, I went through the motions of clearing up the cups and candy wrappers from the coffee table, turning off the TV, and shutting off the lights. I saw the girl cat do a premature one-eyed survey of the room even though she was apparently “too tired” to move off of the blanket she’d been hogging on the couch. She didn’t see that I saw her, but I knew that this sleeping act was a completely charlatan undertaking.
The boy cat yawned and stretched out in his bed accepting my equally acted head pat.
“Such sweet cats, you are,” I added to butter them up even more. Then I rounded the corner and hid.
It didn’t take long. I had put an unloved ornament with bells on the tree near the bottom so the cats could play with it, but I had never once heard it jingle. They preferred the choice pieces at the top of the tree, reserved for my glass ornaments and heirloom gifts. But its distinct tinkle let me know that one of the cats had slipped underneath the dense underbrush of the tree.
I don’t know who spoke first because our boy cat has an unusually high-pitched voice, and he’d only ever meowed before. Neither of them had ever spoken tree in front of me.
“So you think you’re king of the living room, now?”
No response.
“Yeah, why aren’t you shaking your branches now? Do it! Shake ’em!” The tree audibly shakes.
“Imma climb inside your branches and ssscratch you!”
Silence.
“What’s a matter? Scared? What if I did this?”
Small wooden ornament hits the floor.
“O, you’re not gonna do anything? Let’s messss with him!” That was definitely the girl cat. She has an undeniable lisp that came through even when she meows.
A giant tumble ensues. The boy cat enters the top of the tree, grabs the center branch, and sways around so that the tree looks visibly drunk. The girl cat begins climbing the tree from the bottom. A couple of ornaments shake but manage to remain on the tree. At this point, I am dying to catch them red-handed, but I’m also intrigued to find out just how low they can go.
The tree is violently shaking from both top to bottom now, but its cast-iron base seems to be anchoring it in place, even with two fat cats now hugging its trunk. Unsatisfied, the boy cat jumps out of the top and goads it on.
“Come on! Fight back! Throw some needles at me or something! This is boring!”
Silence.
The girl cat emerges from underneath the tree with pine needles sticking out from all points of her long fur.
“Ssspeak for yourself! Now I have to roll around on the rug and get these stupid needles out. Help me out here!”
The boy cat yawns and heads over. He begins licking the needles out of her head.
“This tree is really something. Doesn’t even fight back.”
“Yeah, but we ssshowed him who’s bossss.”
A glittery pine cone falls on the floor and bounces onto the floor!
“PINECONE!” they both exclaim. And she, with needles, and he with boredom allayed, bat the pinecone around the living room floor with much abandon. And I swear I saw the tree frisson with joy.
