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PrintThis is a fictionalized Christmas carol based on the painful recollections of cat owners during the holidays. Read it and weep.
On the first day of Christmas, my kitty brought to me
A bauble from our family Christmas tree. (Isn’t that cute?)
On the second day of Christmas, my kitty brought to me
Two candy canes,
And a bauble from our family Christmas tree.
On the third day of Christmas, my kitty brought to me
Three slaughtered stockings,
Two candy canes,
And a bauble from our family Christmas tree.
On the fourth day of Christmas, my kitty brought to me
Grandma’s hand-stitched tree skirt,
Three slaughtered stockings,
Two candy canes
And a bauble from the family Christmas tree.
On the fifth day of Christmas, my kitty brought to me
FIVE BROKEN BRANCHES,
Grandma’s hand-stitched tree skirt,
Three slaughtered stockings,
Two candy canes,
And a bauble from the family Christmas tree.
That’s when we stubbornly put up a new tree with fresh ornaments. We locked the kitty out of the room. The kitty bided her time for a week, and then one night, she broke in and attacked. The results … were … stunning.
On the 12th day of Christmas, that *&%@*&%* cat brought to me
Our heirloom treetop angel (beheaded, defeathered and disrobed),
Our tree lights stripped and knotted,
Our Nativity scattered from here to Moberly,
Eight barfed-up strings of tinsel,
Seven scuffed sentimental Santas,
Six crystal pine cones (all chipped now),
FIVE BROKEN BRANCHES,
Grandma’s tattered tree skirt,
Three slaughtered stockings,
Two candy canes,
And a per-ma-nent-ly scarred holiday family.
Mary Lawrence teaches editing at the Missouri School of Journalism.
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