King Arthur Movie Tristan

One day a friend of mine says to me, "The wife wants me to create a web site for the cat. What am I supposed to put for content on a cat's website?"

So I went off and wrote A Cat's Christmas for him.

Other years I have offered a taste, and a link. This year I am going to present A Cat's Christmas in a four part series, starting today and ending Christmas Eve. Enjoy:

A Cat's Christmas
By Button Noseworthy
Part 1

"Button! Get out of that tree!"

That's twice. And he's walking this way. Chris. He's not even my person, he's Janet's person, and Janet is mine. None the less, Chris is walking this way and the second time was louder than the first so I have to respond; I look at him like he's grown an extra eye in the middle of his forehead.

"Button!"

That's three and he's almost at the tree. I jump down and run to the other side of the room. Stop. Lick my paw, just to show I didn't get down because of any old person told me too. I got down because I had some dirt on my paw that had to be dealt with right away.

"Janet! Your stupid cat has been playing with the presents!"

Now this is a bit tricky, he wasn't supposed to notice that. What do they expect though? Has he ever stuck a piece of thread in front of me that I don't play with? They know my weaknesses. So now he wraps up presents and puts shiny ribbon around it, and I'm supposed to know it's not for me? It's probably better if I just leave, but with dignity. No running away, walk slow, tail in the air to let them know I'm appalled by the accusations being made against me. Some things must be done right; just as a ballerina must point her toes when doing a pirouette, a Cat must raise her tail when leaving a room amid accusations and slanders.

I walk slowly out of the room, stopping at my food dish. Empty! Who do these people think I am Gandhi? Not in this life, although maybe in my last life I was Gandhi or Mother Theresa or Elvis. How else do you explain that I am a Cat in this life? I give off an indignant meow to protest the service at this establishment, but the staff here could care less.

Chris goes running past with the present I had been playing with ten minutes ago, wrapping paper, ribbon and bow torn to shreds in his arm. He must be planning on re-wrapping that one; this could be fun. He's taking it downstairs so I follow behind, stealthily so he doesn't see me. He sits at a table and pulls out wrapping paper, new ribbon and a new bow. I want the ribbon, but timing is everything when you're a Cat. I settle about two feet behind him and start licking my paws; it is most important to be cleaning, in case he notices me here. My attitude must be as if I am saying 'I always come here to clean, and what are you doing here?' Of course, we both know what he's doing here; he's re-wrapping Janet's present and he's just putting the tape on. That means the ribbon is next, so I move directly under his chair. He wraps it around once, then crosses the ribbon and wraps the other direction. Just as he's about to tie it, I pounce. He never saw me of course, until I was on the present and grabbing at the ribbon. Grabbing and chewing furiously I completely ruin another wrap job for him before running back up stairs. He throws the roll of ribbon at me and yells "Button! You stupid cat!" The ribbon misses, but it's close enough that I pounce on the end and roll downstairs, all the while fighting off the offending ribbon. Once at the bottom of the stairs I jump back up on the stairs, being sure to go around the balustrade at the bottom. Success! I have completely un-wrapped the roll of ribbon and it winds up and down the stairs looking like the stairs had been decorated for Christmas by a dog.

Chris's yelling brings Janet to see what is all the fuss about, and finds that the fuss is her Cat is being cute and her person is allergic to cute. At least that's how I explained it, but these simpletons can't, or won't speak Cat, thus I come off sounding much worse than I was. She's sympathetic to me anyway, and says, "She's just playing Chris." She's technically right of course but she's made a minor error of distinction: She thinks I was playing with the ribbon, but I was, of course, toying with her person. I don't bother sticking around to correct her impression and I'm certainly not helping to clean up the mess I've created, so I walk upstairs and take a comfortable spot under the tree for a nap.

I love Christmas!