December 12, 2009 in Washington Voices

First cat knew fun of Christmas

• Print
• Email
• Share

Sometimes it’s hard to get into Christmas. Its meaning eludes me, and I lose that sense of spiritual wonder. Stressed, depressed, sour, irritated, harried with preparations, I can feel like Barry Manilow, “trying to get the feeling again.”

I’ve had difficulty focusing my mind on Christmas this year. But as I decorated our tree, I thought about the ways our three cats have responded to it.

Our second cat, Fiona, was completely disinterested. A long and powerful cat that opened heavy sliding closet doors with a paw, she could have reached halfway up our tree to cause mass destruction, or brought the whole thing down. But Christmas just wasn’t her thing; she wasn’t exactly hostile to it, but she wasn’t pleased with it either. It disrupted her routine. In fact, as was Fiona’s habit, this furry little Scrooge coolly knocked Christmas décor objects off every surface.

Our third and present cat Casey Rose was a kitten during her first Christmas. While my husband Richard was putting our tree together, she immediately climbed up, peeking out of the branches like a wild forest creature; she wrestled the tangled string of lights; she plunged after ornaments as I swept the fragile ones out of her way.

Casey is now interested in Christmas, but with decorum. Decorations remain unmolested. She has fun with the tree skirt and tissue paper, but that’s about it; she’d rather be on my lap than playing Ornament Smackdown. Casey is like the blasé grownup who, having left childlike enthusiasm behind, neatly unwraps a gift, setting the paper aside for reuse.

But our first cat Musette adored Christmas and embraced our fresh, decorated tree with gusto. An indoor cat, this was her once-a-year intoxicating taste of the outdoors, and opportunity to play with a large number of unusual “toys.”

We’d patrol her during the day; but at night, snickering but resigned, we’d hear the tinkle of delicate balls colliding as Musette rolled around under the tree, attacking them. In the morning, we’d usually find a ball, sometimes broken, lying on the roughed-up tree skirt. We quickly learned to put stodgy unbreakable ornaments at the bottom, and glass balls and treasured ornaments higher up. It resulted in a bifurcated decorating pattern, but we cater to cats at our house.

Musette especially loved biting the needles and drinking the tree stand water, and every year she’d throw up a few times. After we learned that sprays used on Christmas trees can be toxic to animals, we switched to a fake tree. Disappointed with the loss of the tree water, Musette kept digging through the back of the tree skirt trying to find it. We finally put a water bowl there, and she was happy.

At Christmas I miss Musette, a cat who knew how to really have fun with it. Zooming around, eyes crazed, she was thrilled with ornaments, wrappings, tissue, and ribbon. Like a little kid, she never lost her wonder and joy.

Often our appreciation for the mystical and wondrous meaning of this season can be lost amid life’s pressures. Sometimes, like Fiona, life seems too much and we want to knock Christmas off the table.

But thinking of Musette reminds me that there is always something new to find in Christmas and the amazing story in Bethlehem. I might just need to dig harder into the back of my soul’s tree skirt, to find it.

It’s there waiting for me. Wonder and joy.

Spokane Valley resident Deborah Chan can be reached by e-mail at tabbytoes@comcast.net.

No comments on this story so far. Add yours!