Home for the Holidays

 We are so used to traveling that it seems a bit strange to be home. The holidays are almost upon us and that means, of course, decorating the house. We put up the Christmas tree, the large Santa near the fireplace, the manger on the mantel, a few angels dressed gloriously for good measure, a wreath on the door and a basket of Christmas everything's on the front porch. Of course, we have candles in the windows on a timer so as the sun goes down, the candles come on.

Theo watches but is usually unimpressed. He likes one thing and one thing only. The Christmas tree. It used to be a real one, back in the day--and I have fond and not so fond memories of traipsing through someone's tree farm--it was usually cold and rainy--to find the perfect tree, cutting it down with an axe, dragging it home tied down on top of the roof of the car, remeasuring to make sure it would fit in the space, sawing off the excess and then finally dragging it into the house. Of course, needles would fly everywhere as you hem and haw the tree through the always too narrow door openings.

The pine smell was delicious. The labor of putting it into a tree stand and then keeping it filled with water (while every cat I've ever owned insisted that the tree's water was their water and so much better tasting than fountain water) which seemed to disappear by the hour.

Those days are in the distant past. Nowadays we have an artificial specially designed tree that looks great in a corner of our living room. The twinkling lights are pre-attached. The tree comes in three pieces and during the so much less arduous task of dragging the tree from the garage and into the house, unpacking it, assembling the three pieces and then plugging it into electricity, Theo watches, waiting. He has one objective only. To sit under the tree.

He is not one for climbing the tree, knocking the ornaments off, or attacking the angel (that's Mico's thing). All he wants to do is sit under it, on top of the Christmas blanket. 

Sure, sometimes he's joined by Sienna and Mico (they like to hide under the Christmas blanket), but usually he likes to be alone under there, falling fast asleep in the corner. 

Literally ten minutes after we have the tree up, he's there. 

"What do you want for Christmas, Theo?"

"Besides world peace and food for all the children of the world," he asks.

"Yes, besides that."

He tilts his cat face and takes a moment to consider. It is a big question. After all, he believes in Santa, the elves, the North Pole, all the reindeer and the giant sled that will bring him what he wants. I can almost read his mind and see him thinking about and then rejecting a whole host of things--more toys, an electric blanket, more catnip on his favorite toy--a round plastic thing with a ball that goes around (that he can swipe with his paw) and cardboard filler in the middle that he can scratch. 

"Fish snacks," he finally says. 

"Fish snacks?"

"That's what I want."

Okay. 

Here are some random pics of the kids around the house:

We'll be home for the holidays and taking a short vacation (a few weeks) from blogging to decompress and relax. 

We wish everyone a Happy Holiday and peaceful New Year. We hope you can spend time with the ones you love. 

We are grateful for your patronage and hope to continue with our blog for the coming year--Hot Blogging with Chuck--remembering and honoring Chuck, the rascal cat, who passed away a few years ago. 

Chuck Meets Santa

I love Christmas. The singing of carols, the wrapping of presents, the decorations, the hustle and bustle in the stores, the back and forth texting with all my sisters and brothers trying to sort out the menu on Christmas day--all of it.

But this year, as the days ticked by, I dreaded the coming of Christmas day--knowing that Santa wouldn’t have arrived and my Chuck would be disappointed. The man in the red suit wouldn’t have slid down our chimney. Chuck’s present wouldn’t have been deposited underneath the Christmas tree. Chuckie wouldn’t have experienced that moment that all kids love--when they could rip the wrapping off their present and get to the good stuff.

Yes, dread sat on my chest like a hundred pound gorilla.

Chuck was hoping for a box full of cat treats--Temptations--to be exact.

Every night Bob said, “Tell the kid the truth.”

But I couldn’t.

Maybe I wanted to believe that somehow Santa would arrive. That somehow Chuck’s faith in Santa would make it happen.

Crazy right?

And then Christmas Eve was upon us, and Chuck could hardly contain his excitement, confident that Santa was on his way.

I went to bed that night with a heavy heart.

Chuck camped out underneath the tree, determined to stay awake and wait for Santa to arrive with his present.

I tossed and turned in bed, but finally nodded off.

The next morning--Christmas morning--I awoke at the crack of dawn, anxious to see how Chuck was handling his disappointment. I crept down the stairs and into the great room where we have our tree. Chuck was fast asleep, sprawled on top of a large box. Strange, I thought, there weren’t any presents left unopened under the tree last night. We had already opened all of them.

Bob was behind me. “Did you put a present there for Chuck?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“I thought you did.”

I tiptoed across the room toward the tree. The wrapping paper didn’t look familiar. Crouching, I stared at the gift tag on the present. In bold letters, someone had printed “Chuck”.

At that very moment, Chuck opened one eye.

“Merry Christmas, Chuckie.” And then I studied him closely. He didn’t look sad or depressed. Or disappointed.

Dare I say it?

“Is that box for you?”

Chuck didn’t answer, but it took him less than a minute to unwrap the present and open the box. Well, there was no doubt this box was from Santa. The box was filled with bags of Temptations. Chuckie’s favorite treat.

Was it possible?

I turned to Bob.

He shrugged.

I mouthed “Santa”?

“Who else?” he said.

“So, Chuckie, you actually got a chance to meet Santa. What did you think? Did he say anything to you? Did you see the reindeer?”

But the Chuckster wasn’t listening. He was too busy trying to get one of the bags of treats open. After all, the kid was hungry. And how could he resist all those bags of Temptations?