A special holiday message from Scott Cat

A Mouseland leader’s Christmas message: Based on the original fable by T.C. Douglas about Saskatchewan’s political parties and updated to reflect politics in December 2018.

Scott Cat crumbled the paper in his giant black cat paw and angrily tossed it to the floor of his office in the Great Marble Palace.

“No, that won’t work, either,” muttered the black Moehair cat who had taken over Mouseland government from Brad Cat early in the year.

While of calm temperament and demeanour for the black cat species that seemed so hissing mad these days over oil, pipelines and even foreign critters trying to move into their land, there were a couple things that irritated the normally affable Scott Cat.

One was the storyteller making those terrible puns with the Mouseland leader’s name — something still happening with alarming frequency.

But the more irritating thing about Scott Cat’s new job was the need to politicize most everything — even this annual Mouseland leader’s Christmas message. Procrastinating, Scott Cat was stuck with the unpleasant task in the wee hours of Christmas Eve, when Mouseland was at its most magical.

You see, Mouseland wasn’t a place just for mice. There were ducks and chickens and rabbits and turkeys and foxes and skunks and weasels that were in no way guilty of anything in their alleged land speculation activities in development of Mouseland’s new inland port. And there were cats — black cats and white cats, although the difference between the black cats whose coats were stained with coal and oil and the white cats had never been so pronounced.

A very long time ago a little ol’ church mouse named Tommy — as shrewd as he was kind — discovered that if he could keep the black cats and white cats from ever coming together in one cat party, the mice were likely to always form government. However, Mouseland had become a very different place since then.

The chances of the mice ever again forming Mouseland government now seemed so remote because about the only critters that mice now connected with were city mice. (Sadly, most of the country mice had died.)

Admittedly, their new leader Ryan Mouse was a pleasant-enough, soft-spoken mouse. The thing is, though, for today’s nasty, noisy Mouseland, he just seemed ... well ... maybe just a little too mousey.

Nasty, noisy, fast-paced modern-day Mouseland politics was all about bypassing the MSM (mainstream mouseographers) and using unsociable media to provoke voting critics on issues. “Speak to them directly. Make them want to hiss and snarl, but make sure you do it in a subtle way,” Scott Cat was told.

And not even the Mouseland leader’s Christmas message was to be passed up as an opportunity to politick.

For a paws-to-the-earth, simple ol’ farm cat like Scott Cat, this was all a bit much.

He was already worn out from the black cat leadership process, where there had been plenty of biting and scratching and fur flying. He was tired and he just wanted to go home and have a peaceful Christmas with the family. Instead, he had to write his Christmas message, sliding in some politics.

“Hark, the Herald Angels sing ... no carbon tax is the cats’ thing,” scribbled Scott Cat. No, that wouldn’t work, either. “While shepherds watch their flocks at night, there would be no overtime in sight.” No, that sounds horrible, too.

“This just isn’t right”, roared Scott Cat. “This isn’t what Mouseland is about.”

He thought about the hardworking flocks of sheep who toiled in the fields, even though they had just been fleeced by last year’s sales tax increase on their grass. He thought about the gophers who tilled the Mouseland soil for no apparent economic gain. He thought about what they really wanted to hear right now.

As the soft Christmas Eve snow fell outside his window, Scott Cat scribbled down a one-sentence Christmas message, turned out the lights and left.

It simply said, “Merry Christmas to all.”

That’s all that needed to be said.