Simon's cat.
simonscat.com
My new favourite obsession.
If you haven't yet had an opportunity to partake of the humour that emerges from the day-to-day experiences of living with cats, you should.
Right now, Dibley is re-enacting the activities from the short "Cat and Mouse."
I could be here all day just trying to write a single paragraph, because Dibley makes Simon's cat look agreeable.
And when a kitten enters the mix. . .well, I was so reminded of when we introduced Jasper and Dibley into our happy home.
But the short that has most recently caught my attention is Santa Claws.
The Christmas we first had Goblet was just like this.
Over and over and over again.
Because we tried so hard to prevent her from taking the tree as her own booty.
At first, we just tried to keep her out of the tree by spraying her with the water bottle.
But our tree was particularly dense that year, preventing the water from reaching her.
She hid in there, playing peek-a-boo with us and the glittery, shiny, enticing baubles covering the tree.
Every single morning we'd wake up and find the detritus of our tree lying all over the floor.
If we were lucky, they were still intact.
And there were even times when we'd find them in the kitchen, as she would spend the night entertaining herself by rolling them all through the house.
Eventually, as you could predict, the tree had enough of her playful antics with it's insides, as tipped over.
Scattering decorations hither and yon.
Sharp bits and pieces all over the place, just waiting for the soft pads of canine feet to walk over them.
And Goblet blinking those big brown eyes as if to say, "who me?"
Our next attempt to keep the tree upright was to tie it to wall.
Strings of red yarn from tree to wall, looking as if Spiderman had come into the house during the night to give us some assistance.
All that did was entice her further.
It wasn't uncommon to walk into the living room and see her attempting to cling to the string.
Tree and string???
She was in kitty heaven.
This was also the Christmas that we decided to drive to Montreal for a few days, leaving on Boxing Day and returning the day before New Year's Eve.
The trip was an event all on its own.
But when we returned, our tree had given up.
Succumbed to the machinations of a single minded kitten who was determined to make the tree her bitch.
And she did.
Our neighbour from across the street was watching the house while we were gone.
When we returned, our tree was lying on the floor.
If it could have spoken it would have mumbled, "Help!!! I've been attacked by a kitten and I can't get up!"
Our neighbour had collected the yet-to-be-maimed decorations from the floor and tried her best to sweep the remnants of those decorations whose time had passed as a result of their encounter with the little-kitten-who-could-and-did.
Thankfully, her interest in the tree had waned from her first Christmas to her second.
We purchased a steel reinforced tree stand.
A smaller tree.
And now we are awaiting our first Christmas with Jasper.
Who will, in all likelihood, make Goblet look like an amateur.
If his current behaviour is any indication.
Meaning we may need a tree with it's own early warning detection system, secured perimeter and a cadre of guard dogs protecting it.
Even that may not be enough.
Just like Simon's cat.
Title Lyric: The Sound of a Tree Falling by The Roches
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