Scully and Max would like everyone to know that their Xmas gifts this year are nowhere near as fun as last year's, but the wrapping paper rocks! Thus, the human is not allowed to pick it up off the floor. Nor the pretty, curly ribbons. Ditto for the big, bite-able bows. The paper -- the one with snowflakes on it, the skinny one with Xmas trees, and especially the biiig one with Garfield and Odie on it -- are reserved for catnaps. And the occasional rowdy game of "Quick, Stick Your Paws Under This Thingy, 'Cause Who Knows What We Might Find Hiding There!" Not to worry. Once the novelty wears off and boredom sets in, all Xmas-y sheets will be shredded into various-sized pieces, as well as enough confetti-sized bits to require the human to drag out the noisy suck-up-dirty-stuff machine and make them disappear. However, in keeping with the festive atmosphere of the season, games of "Let's See How Many Times We Can Knock The Little Stuffed Rudolph Off The Top Of The TV" will continue to be played until the end of the holidays, in the hope of breaking last year's record of 147. Meowy Xmas, Twitterverse!
Do your cats play with toys, ignore them, or do their best to dismember them?
Doling out some new toys one at a time to see which ones Scully and Max consider worth at least nudging, and which ones they totally ignore. Scully is not in the mood, and wanders away. Surprisingly, Max is attracted to the toy I think is cute -- vaguely teddybearish, it consists of a purple stuffed-felt head, hands, and feet connected by white twisty, curly, spidery torso, arms, and legs that hang like yarn.
Holding it in her mouth, Max drags it, the little purple feet trailing on the floor between her front paws, like a mother cat carries its kitten. Is that adorable, or what? She carries it up onto the sofa. Nuzzles it a little. Takes it back down onto the floor. Up on the sofa again. Down on the floor. Shhhh! Don't tell her she's getting exercise. Later, she disappears with it, and I find her in my bedroom, up on the bed. Licking the purple teddybear ears. Awww, how sweet.
It disappeared for a while during the day, but Max can't be expected to play constantly, and Scully has no interest in anything that doesn't smell like Friskies.
Then came bedtime, with both cats curled up on the bed with me, as usual. Slept a few hours (I rarely get more than that, and they prefer most of their sleep in the daytime), stretched (all 3 of us), and found ...
The purple teddybear. Or what was left of it. Holy crap. It looks like Jason from "Friday The 13th" got hold of it. It's just a head, a torso, and one arm. And a little pile of ... stuffing? Oh yeah. Looks like white fiberglass, but it's some sort of stuffing. Teddybear head deflated. Teddybear brains lying there on the comforter. A head in my bed. More evidence that Max paid more attention to "The Godfather" than I'd like, when I watched it a while back. I pick it up, and it's soggy. Go into the kitchen and find one dismembered teddybear leg hanging over the edge of the water dish. Now I know why the rest is sopping wet. Obviously, Max had a busy morning, and teddy did some traveling. And bathing.
I eventually find the other leg over by the TV in the computer room. The other arm? Who knows. Maybe keeping company with a dust bunny, batted under a piece of furniture I haven't vacuumed in a while. Ok, that could be any of the furniture.
So much for the new toy.
And Christmas is coming. Kittycat heaven. New empty boxes to play in. Crinkly wrapping paper on which to stretch out and nap, or lie in wait to attack each other. Colorful bows to bat around. And brand new toys to mutilate.
Someday I want to be reincarnated as a cat ;-}
Writer of horror, sci-fi, other genres. Servant of cats. Multiple cats, who kindly allow me to live here (at least until they figure out how to open Fancy Feast cans themselves). Contact me at: GargoylePhanNB@gmail.com