Humor: Christmas... with Cats.

Jack Goblin By Jack Goblin, 27th Jan 2015 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Humour>Funny Stories

Christmas is a time of cheer and joy. With cats, it might also be a time of bashing your head against the wall.

Cats may be hazarous to your soul...

Christmas holidays with cats tends to be stressful to all concerned. So much so that the truth of the following joke should be apparent.

"A man died and stood for Judgement before St. Peter. The saint looked through the Book of Life and said "Kind, decent, Church goer, donated to charity, kept MOST of the Commandments... BUT!" he said, staring at the man over the top of the Book. "Two million, four hundred seventy one thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine instances of taking of the Lord's name in vain, various curses and damnations, and several odd invocations of other deities. Do you have anything to say about this?"

The man, sweating buckets and expecting to see the flames of Hell any second, hazarded, "Uh... I had cats?"

Peter cracked a smile. "Why didn't you say so? The Lord allows automatic dispensation of forgiveness to cat owners in such matters because He knows, cats try the patience of saints. Enter unto your reward, good and faithful servant."

At least, let us HOPE that the powers that be make allowances for cat-inspired falls from grace. Because, as my cats C. and P. (as I will continue to call them, just because) showed me over the Christmas holidays, when cats and humans live together, especially during times like Christmas, death threats, curses, wrath, and violent actions tend to result.

And that's just the cats.

C. and P.

The problem is, of course, that cats - MY cats, anyway - don't 'get' Christmas. C. and P. couldn't understand why I was bringing out these odd objects and decorations. Or sitting and writing cards and wrapping presents. ESPECIALLY they couldn't understand why strangers were showing up in what they regard as THEIR house. Being cats, and therefore both supreme egotists and conspiracy theorists, they seemed to assume the first two were being done for their exclusive entertainment, and tried to take advantage without restraint or concern. And as for the latter: Clearly a gathering of Satanists preparing for ritual cat sacrifice, and therefore cause to hide.

It's a bit hard to persuade cats that you're not interested in trying to use their lifeblood to invoke the Prince of Darkness when they're crouched under the bed and staring at you as if you were a habitual liar. C. eventually came out and was petted by guests, much to his enjoyment. P. stayed under cover until the visitors were gone. And when he did emerge it was with a cautious but somewhat smug expression, like someone who had been threatened with treachery most foul and survived.


Destructive Cats

Getting back to the matter of decorations: Cats are notorious for the terrible things they do to Christmas things. Garlands and stockings might be hung by the chimney with care; but if those items are anywhere a cat can reach, through any application of physics or motional dynamics, they won't stay hanging long. Christmas trees will be climbed and toppled, just because. Christmas ornaments hung from tree branches will be destroyed, wind up missing or in impossible places, or missing, destroyed, AND in impossible places, and probably where you'll wind up walking on them with bare feet. And we will not talk of tinsel, except to say that passage though a cat's digestive system seldom improves it OR the cat.

Fortunately long and bitter experience had alerted me to most of these dangers, and I took appropriate action. Bricks stacked on the base made it impossible for the tree to topple, and I decorated the lower branches with used cat toys. Naturally C. and P. ignored the tree after that. All hanging objects were hung HIGH. And no tinsel or anything a cat in a fit of dementia - or for a cat, normalacy - might eat, was allowed. Once, a while ago, one of my cats ate a used piece of dental floss that had missed the trash basket; I saw the chewing just a little too late to intervene before the swallow. That had also been a learning experience, and I had no wish for a repeat need to have to examine cat scat for days afterwards to make sure this too, had passed.

Cats are SOOO Helpful.

But even if the destruction of festive festoonings could be avoided, that merely removed one area of conflict. There were plenty of others. For instance, I have already alluded to the great interest C. and P. took in my efforts to write Christmas cards and prepare presents. I sat at the kitchen table and started working; P. immediately leaped up, came over to see what I was doing, sat down on the cards or wrapping paper (of course) and wanted to rub heads.

C. - his attention attracted by P.'s actions, and probably hoping there was food involved - also leaped up on the table, wandered over, ALSO sat on whatever I was using, and peered at me with a "Feed me" expression on his face. This lead me to putting my own face in my hands and sighing. C. and P. responded to my distress by patting the top of my head with their paws and wondering why I did that so often.

I still got the cards out in time and the packages wrapped. There were a few cat hairs included, but I got things done. Eventually

When Cats Go Too Far

But the activity that proved most dangerous to myself, the cats, our healths, our relationship, and probably our immortal souls, was baking.

Christmas is of course a time for baking and cooking. Pies, meals, cookies, all sorts of things. For C. and P., this sudden burst of activity on my part and the smells it produced were EXTREMELY intriguing, and they stuck to me like glue. Almost literally. Couched behind me where I couldn't see them, or dashing ahead of me, or between my feet, they nearly tripped me dozens of times; even though I warned them that, if I went down, I'd take them with me.

They leaped up on counters and tables constantly to see what I was doing, often staring in shock at roasts being readied to go into the oven. Or poking confusedly at loaves of bread, or pies, or pots of vegetables. Or being startled by landing in flour or on cooking implements and leaping right back down, often bringing things crashing down with them and/or leaving behind a trail of flour, outlining dashing cat feet...

After several such incidents - and persistent attempts to get to the butter dish or lard bowl, sometimes successfully - I wound up having to banish them to the basement and close the door. This of course set off frantic door scratching that lasted for long periods at a time, over and over and over. While this didn't do the finish on the door any good, I decided that sacrificing a layer of paint was better than courting cat directed homicidal mania.

I'm sure C. and P. would have agreed, if our conversations at that point ever went beyond me screaming "GET OUT OF THERE YOU (BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP)!!!"

Christmas IS a somewhat stressful time.

When Cats Come Back From Going Too Far.

Eventually, the baking done for the day, I opened the door and the cats rejoined the household. P. scurried about looking things over and saw no sign that I had set up altars to Beelzebub, or brought in another cat (or worse, a DOG!) as a pet, and I hadn't moved the furniture; so he looked at me with a "What?" expression, not understanding why I had locked him downstairs.

C., much more pragmatic, leaped up on the counter. To his sorrow there was now nothing to eat there as I had cleaned up, put everything away, and even hidden the butter dish in a cupboard. He was denied sustenance, except for the kibble in his bowl. Disappointing though that was, being a cat, he soon found a distraction when he determined the stove was delightfully warm. He promptly laid down and took a nap.

Letting Sleeping Cats Lie

In this manner we worked our way through Christmas; the cats driving me nuts, and me trying to avoid death, destruction, and damnation. Finally all the Yuletide joy came to an end, and C. and P. and I settled back to the normal levels of confusion, mutual irritation, and occasional affection that we're used to dealing with. And looking back, I can only say, "God bless us, everyone. And forgive us our trespasses. And blasphemies."

Next year I may celebrate Christmas in secret.

Media Source: The first photo is from Wikimedia Commons. All the others are from me and featuring C. and P.

Some links to other articles about my cats:

Humor: My cats C. and P. Strike Again!

And Now, P. the Cat Goes to the DENTIST!!!

C. the Cat Goes to the DENTIST!!

The continuing adventures of my cats, C. and P.!

The Origins of My Cats C. and P.!


Annoying Feline Behavior, Cats, Christmas, Humor, Pets, Tinsel

Meet the author

author avatar Jack Goblin
Was born. Haven't died yet. Don't intend to anytime soon.

Thank you much for reading my articles. I hope they brought you pleasure and enlightenment. :)

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author avatar GV Rama Rao
13th Feb 2015 (#)

I am glad God gives allowance to cat owners for swearing. Although I'm not a cat lover, I enjoyed reading this piece.

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