Ruru the Cat here. The Christmas tree used to be my jungle gym. I'd be able to climb in and through it. Yes, I may have had some competition, but I'd get to spend a lot of time attacking and knocking over all the ornaments and knocking them to the ground. I also got to attack and kill the wrapping paper and all the presents. They were mine. Then, one younger cat after another started to crowd me out of all my favorite spaces.
This was what it was like to greet the Christmas tree into the living room. Even the new little boy, Roswell, got to play with it. I guess that's because he's Dude's protege. And Dude, the big, scary panther in my house, has long since claimed the tree as his own. Only those Dude lets anywhere near his tree can kill it.
Dude even let Roswell play with the ornaments once the tree was up. It just isn't fair. This used to be all my house. That used to be my jungle gym before the rest of the cats moved in and took it over.
Dude even let other cats play with the ornaments. Before they went on the tree, that is. But he's often standing guard. I don't even try anymore. Mostly, I'm hiding either in my drawer in the bathroom or in my people's bedroom.
I didn't even get to help with the wrap. Everyone else got to shred the paper and play with the presents. It feels so good to shred it between my murder mittens. It's better still if there are presents inside. Can you think of anything more exciting than leaving a pile of gifts surrounded in shredded paper? I can't! Other than shredded paper filled with shattered bits of ornaments from my very own tree. Ahh. Paradise! It was so nice when I had a moment like that.
But I haven't had a moment like that in years. Years! Such a tragedy. This is my holiday fun. No one else should have it but me. Can't we just send the cats away over the holidays? And leave them there afterward, wherever there is?
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