Have a happy, everyone!

Ah, yes, it's Christmas! Cat finally hung my stocking on the staircase beside Big Stupid's and I think I saw her sneak something furry in. I'm hoping for a hamster, but it's probably just a toy. Sigh.

Cat also ran an extension cord out the front door for lights on the railing and a tree she has out there. I hope the neighbors appreciate it, because I'm finding it hard to take a snooze anywhere without shimmering lights bothering me. Not, of course, that I mind the Christmas tree inside the house. I can hide behind the pile of packages and scare Big Stupid when I jump out. You think she'd catch on, but ...

My favorite place of all time is The Village. Cat had it long before I came to organize her home and life, and every year she rearranges things to create a city and a farm with lots of people and stuff. I decided early on this season that if my life had to be disrupted by her going all goo-goo over a bunch of fake buildings and trees, I might as well enjoy it.

So what are you doing to celebrate the season?

Tabby recommends Cat Shaffer's new historical suspense novel, Bittersweet, as an excellent addition for all those folks who get e-readers for Christmas (and yes, it's available in print as well.)

What is her problem?

In my not quite four years of having Cat as my servant, we've gotten along relatively well. She knows her place, and keeps my food dish full and has yet to chase me away from the top of her wardrobe, where I sleep at night atop the spare sheets.

So you can understand my surprise and displeasure when she walked into the kitchen the other night and yelled at me. Yes, moi, the most wonderful cat in the world.

I was doing nothing. Honestly. Seeking a big of peace and quiet from the television and Big Stupid's barking, I found a place to relax. More than large enough to accommodate me, it was out of the flow of traffic.

Yet in comes Cat, disturbing my peace and acting as if I'm waaaaay out of line just because I'm sitting on top of the range hood. Yes, I had to use the table and the stove as springboards, but what's so wrong with where I landed?

Sometimes I simply can't understand her. Instead of delicately licking the dripping water from the spout in the bathtub, she immerses herself in the thing when it's full of water -- ooh, even the thought of being that wet gives me chills. And rather than doing the polite thing and licking her paws clean when she eats, she wipes her fingers on paper instead.

Christmas is just around the corner, though, and I do feel that perhaps I should give her a gift in acknowledgment of the generally good job she does as my caretaker. I know many of you are authors and readers. Would you happen to know where I can purchase a manual for her -- perhaps one titled "Care and Feeding of the World's Most Wonderful Creature?''

Tabby

P.S. If you're looking for a book to give for Christmas, don't forget all the books Cat and her good friend Cammie Eicher have out there!

It's about time!

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.