Oh, there’s a kitten in my Christmas tree
AFTER months of peace and quiet, the home office is no longer my own.
The tappety tap tap of my fingers on the keyboard has been joined by the thundering of tiny paws, crash of tumbling bodies and occasional squeak if play gets too rough.
Yes, you guessed it. Kittens. Pixie and Coco. The former named because of her small size and very mischievous nature, with the latter inspired rather boringly by a quiz show question about Coco Chanel! But, it seems to suit her and rolls off the tongue nicely. Although judging by her size, the ‘little black dress’ would be a tight squeeze.
But don’t be hoodwinked by their cute little faces, especially when there is a Christmas tree involved. Naturally intrigued by anything new, bright and sparkly, bringing kittens into the house just before Christmas was always going to be risky.
While I do grumble about having to scramble under the stairs and drag out the decorations each year, I always end up putting myself at the head of affairs when it comes to adorning the tree (real, of course) with baubles, lights and tinsel. This year, more so than ever, the biggest and most prized possessions fill the higher branches, out of reach from prying paws and teeth.
Or so I thought. After being so well behaved, that natural instinct and temptation to climb finally got the better of Pixie last weekend. Portly Coco, meanwhile, is yet to drum up the energy needed to lift her paws off the ground. Wise move. Needless to say, I was not impressed with Pixie. And, unlike dogs who are generally quick to recognise when they have done wrong, cats carry on regardless.
Banished to the kitchen, in the hope that she would let off some steam by either bulldozing through the shoe rack or kicking the life out of one of the many furry mouse toys littering the floor, a little later on I caved and let the beasts back into the front room.
Had she learned her lesson? No. Is there such a thing as a Christmas tree cage? I may well need it!