The Holidays

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring.....not so much! Ricky Lee was lurking about.

Christmas is a hectic time for everyone, but our everyday lives are busy and eventful and filled with spontaneous moments of laughter and adventure. But on this particular evening, the house was calm and had the wonderful smell of Christmas. In the middle of our living room stood our Scotch Pine; it was still wet from being in the back of our truck. We brought the tree in and allowed it to dry. It stood tall and proud; it was just waiting to be decorated by the children.

Instead of resting up for the next days festivities, our glorious tree was under attack! As everyone already knows, kittens can be wonderfully mischievous. 'Wonderfully mischievous' is definitely an oxy-moron in my house. Ricky Lee is not wonderful. He is, actually a moron!

I was sitting down enjoying the quiet of my children long ago in bed, when out of the corner of my eye, I spied movement. Now, I didn't think the said animal could surprise me, but knowing that kittens enjoy eating tinsel (threw it out), batting low ornaments (I will rearrange when Cassidy is finished putting ornaments on the lower branches). I thought I had thought everything through. Again, not so much! There, in the middle of my beautiful Scotch Pine, is Mr. Siamese!

This cat rescue turned into a delicate procedure. I called my pet. "Ricky Lee, Ricky Lee!" (In my high pitched, childish, sing-song voice)....but no Ricky. I tried again, and again, without success. (Rotten cat) I could not think of a solution that did not involve me wrestling a Christmas Tree!

"Come on, you rotten cat!" (This is actually what I was chanting as I shook the tree! ) I tried to get sympathy from my faithful lab companion, but Daisy was nowhere to be found. I think I may have scared her with all of the flying needles, but one can't be sure! I thought I could act as if I was the mother cat, and lift him out of the tree by the skin between his ears, but as I attempted this trick, he flew to the top. Although I hate to admit it, I even entertained the idea of leaving him there, and say to heck with the angel! (I am not sure Christian would have approved?!)

After an hour of sing-song, chanting and shaking, Ricky Lee was still in the tree. I wore defeat and it didn't look good on me. It came in the form of pitch, needles and a bruise (from when the tree stand flew out and hit my shin).

"Ricky Lee", I said on my way down the hall. "Good luck getting your ass out of there! I am going to bed and I am not giving you another thought!" To be completely honest, I was exhausted. My biceps ached, i pulled a muscle in my back, and I had sap all over me. It was not difficult for me to go to bed at this point. So that is what I did!

About forty-five minutes after I hit the sheets, just when I was entering REM sleep....I was woken to "Meow. Meow. Meow". Crash!

Rotten Cat!