If you've missed me, blame Cat. First she bought a new computer (do you know how hard it is to study the manual without opposable thumbs?) and then she enticed me to lay around and do nothing by putting a wonderfully soft, fluzzy blanket on my favorite chair by the window.
Like solar lights, I do believe I've soaked up enough sunlight that I'm fully charged. Which is good since Cat put up a Christmas tree.
This is NOT one of those four-foot ones she usually has. (She's quite devious and tapes the tree to a table, As if I would even think of toppling it.) This one is taller than she is with bright lights and lovely ornaments hanging just within paw reach. A mountain of boxes with paper on them surround it, summoning up visions of running across the house and diving right into them.
Alas, Big Stupid will not allow such a thing. Just because she's a dog, and just because she lops all over Cat's lap in the recliner, she thinks she rules the house.
As if.
In the interest of pretending to keep peace, I allow Big Stupid to run me off when Cat's around. When Cat's gone .... let's just say that what happens in the living room stays in the living room. But there's nothing quite as fun as bouncing from the pew to the couch and back again, cutting closer and the closer to the tree each time.
I know what you're thinking: Sooner or later, I'm going to fall, the tree will go down and all those packages will be smashed. Cat will come home, see the mess and ...
Yes, amid the destruction she'll see one of Big Stupid's toys I dragged over and maybe even a few dog biscuits crumbs if I can find some on the couch. And then let's see who gets to sit on her lap!
Tabby
P.S. Still Christmas shopping? Why not order copies of "Bittersweet," Cat's historical suspense, for all your friends. The only thing that could make it better is if she'd given those folks a cat.
