North American Tree Weasels Lose Our Tree

[My favorite jungle gym.]

Ruru the Cat here.  My people have taken to calling us the "North American Tree Weasels" because we're always running up and down that so-called Christmas tree thing.  The problem, of course, was that everyone else was always taking over my favorite jungle gym.  I scarcely got to hang out in that thing.  I only got to kill one or two ornaments.  I wanted to take out the whole tree.  Whenever I'd try to slink over there, casually so no one knew it was me, I'd find Cass or, worse yet, Sylvie.  It's supposed to be MY jungle gym. 

[The one toy worth killing.]

Anyway, one day this week, our people gathered around it and took out all those lovely packages wrapped in the oh-so-shreddable paper they stuck in plastic, so I couldn't shred.  They passed those things around.  They even gave me this fuzzy sock-shaped thing filled with boring toys I've scarcely touched.  What I really wanted was that tree, but they didn't stick it in my fuzzy sock.  Clearly, humans aren't as sharp as they think. 

[Little monster steals my toy.]

I do have to say one of those  boring toys was not made of cheap plastic.  It's this big, frilly, fuzzy thing with lots of baubles and shiny, dangly bits.  I like that thing.  I can kill it like they won't let me do the ornaments.  But then, I see them sharing it with the puppies, those useless little rodents, also on the unfortunate list of forbidden play objects.  Sad, too.  I could make quick work of those 4-inch fluffy things.  And now, my toy has puppy cooties.  Thanks again, people.  Grrr. 

[Empty spot where the tree was.]

Anyway, so one day, the mom around here hauled off the tree.  Sylvie was lost all day.  She kept coming back to see if it would return.  It was her favorite hidey hole.  Sucks to be her.  But now, I'll have to wait until next year to slaughter the ornaments.  Ah, well.  I guess I can steal my fun toy back and kill it.  I can also pretend that I'm hunting those annoying and chirpy puppies that are just going to grow and become MORE annoying dogs to eat my dog food.   I think I'll go to sleep mauling that toy, while dreams of annoying, little barky rodents dance in my head.  That'll be fun.