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. 

Christmas Kidnapping - Who Done It?

 When you live with three rascal cats and something disappears, you can never be sure who did it. Let's call this case the mystery of the missing Christmas angel. Yes, what you're imagining is absolutely true. 

Here are the facts of the case:

We put our new artificial tree up in the beginning of December and put our beloved angel on the top. Now, this angel has been in the family a long time. She looks perfect on her perch on high. She stares directly into the living room. We love her and never suspect she will disappear like a puff of smoke.

We wake up on December 18 and at first, don't notice the angel is missing. But because we're so close to Christmas, we turn the lights of the tree on early in the morning. Something is wrong. We gasp in horror.

The Christmas angel is gone. 

Are we seeing things? Maybe our sweet angel is tilting backwards, and we can't see her. But no, the angel isn't tilting; she's gone.

Who would kidnap an angel?

Culprit one: Theo, our oldest cat, named after Theodore Roosevelt. Although he is affectionately called the gangster cat as current star of the family blog, he usually is an upstanding feline citizen in our household. He is the least likely to cause mischief. But . . . we have noticed on occasion that if something nefarious is in progress, he'll look on and not make a meow. He is becoming more like rascal Chuck everyday.

Culprit two: Sienna. The sister of the brother and sister duo we adopted a year ago. Sienna is wily and extremely smart. She seems to see everything. At the most unlikely of moments she is racing around the house, looking guilty of having perpetrated some crime, but we can never figure out what she did. She never admits to anything. Usually she's on top of our oversized brown chair in the living room, stretched out, one paw dangling like she plans to stay there forever, or is she just taking the opportunity to plot her next crime?

Culprit three: Mico. The brother of aforementioned duo who is named after Michelangelo. He is as cute as a button, but mischievous and was initially charged (last year) with removing the sink stoppers in our three bathrooms and hiding them. We never could figure out how he pried the stopper out of the sink. But he did.  We must ignore his cuteness, especially when he's pretending to be fast asleep.

We have to take drastic measures. For example, we have an oversized hibiscus tree in our living room. Usually it is outside in warmer weather. Now inside, the three rascals insist on climbing into the planter, digging the dirt, making a mess . . . we try covering it with aluminum foil, with dog pee pads--nothing works. 

 

Finally, inspired by a Facebook video, we put plastic forks into the dirt with the tongs facing upwards as a deterrent. It looks ridiculous but it works!

Dan and I confer on our recent tragic situation.  It's a matter of principle.

"Well, we know one of them kidnapped the angel. But which one?"

Dan smiles. "Based on past experience, it has to be Mico. I'll put my money on Mico."

I don't want to believe it, but the orange and white troublemaking cat does seem the most likely suspect. Perhaps, he swiped at her and she landed upside down, hanging onto the tree for dear life. My imagination is running wild.

But no, she isn't hanging off the side of the tree. 

"It will break my heart if we don't get that angel back. After all, who wants a tree with no topper?"

We decide that using the third degree is our only choice. I get the ultra bright light to shine in Mico's face. Dan prepares the questions. (As a last resort, we can always pull the other two aside and resort to bribery.)

Mico, of course, denies everything. He stares at the top of the three and shrugs his orange and white shoulders. "No, mom. I didn't do it."

"You didn't kidnap the angel?"

We cannot shake his story.

We move onto Sienna. She denies nothing but won't admit to anything. Her blasé attitude almost pushes us to the limit. She silently meows in protest. I'm a firm believer in one rule: Better to let a guilt party go free than punish an innocent party. 

We need proof. 

Our last suspect, Theo, is sleeping soundly on the back of the love seat on a horsehair blanket that he loves. Can someone sleep that soundly if they have a guilty conscience? 

"Theo, tell us who did it. No one will be punished. We just want our angel back."

Theo tilts his head as if considering, as if he would ever play the role of mole in his criminal organization. 

I spy them together on the couch, conferring, plotting. 

"This is ridiculous," I whisper to Dan. "They've obviously taken a code of silence. All for one, one for all."

"So all three were in cahoots together."

It's late. We make one final plea. "Delicious snacks for all if whoever kidnapped the angel, returns her to her right place."

The next morning arrives. It is now five days before Christmas. No Christmas angel. These are the stubbornest cats I've ever met.  

Two days before Christmas Eve. Morning arrives. Dan calls upstairs, "You're not going to believe this. She's back."

I race down the stairs. Sure enough, there the angel sits as if she were never missing. How did they get her up there? How did they get her down? Are they trying to gaslight us? And now they expect snacks.

"You did promise them snacks," Dan says innocently.

"Really."

"Let it go, Kate." 

And let it go I must for my own sanity. 

Happy Holidays! And . . . Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!