Friday, December 13, 2013

We Have Our Tree

I may need to find THREE fluffy kittens in my Christmas stocking because Toffee, Harris, and Possum are trying to kill themselves by chewing the little bare branches inside our 9-foot tree. It was so big and heavy that it nearly killed US as we dragged it up here, so it’s not going anywhere else, no matter how crazy the cats are. I'd been sort of dreading getting a tree since I knew it would be fraught with peril — but I thought that would only be after it was decorated. 

We spend a surprising amount of time keeping Harris and Toffee safe from all kinds of potential hazards that all my previous cats routinely ignored. No one else ever jumped on a hot stove, ate string, or tried to stand on top of a floor lamp, for example. Now it's beginning to occur to me that if three of this crop of cats are stupid enough to eat things like the Christmas tree, they are possibly too dumb to live. Perhaps I should stop choosing my kittens on the basis of looks and sweet expressions and go for a few brains instead. I can't very well put three cats in those hamster exercise balls for the rest of their lives. (What I can do is rush them to the ER at Angell Memorial at the first sign of a blockage....)


Oh, well. I'm going to try not to think about that until I have to.



Anticipation.

We struck out at Wilson Farm this year when we went to pick out our tree. Usually we buy the first one we see, and it's lovely. This year we looked at about a dozen; our helper even took us into the Secret Storage room to see the $150 Noble Firs from California. Then we were passed onto his boss, and he couldn't find us a good tree, either. They were all too short, too thin, or too fat. We also gave up on trying to find fat, fluffy green balsam wreaths. There were loads of nicely decorated wreaths, and pretty mixed wreaths with fancy [toxic] greens, [toxic] berries and so on. The plain balsam ones — it has to balsam, the most aromatic — were a flimsy, yellowed, weird lot. 


Wilson Farm is one of our favorite places, however, and going there will always be one of our holiday traditions. They have much more to offer than trees and wreaths. I hope we'll go back again before Christmas for food/goodie shopping.


We found our tall, grand balsam fir and two perfect wreaths at the Lions' Club stand in Belmont. I never saw such pretty plain wreaths anywhere else. And it's not the first time; they always have the best. 


I'm listening to Toffee chewing on twigs as I write this. There are zillions of them and we realized it would be impossible to clip them all off. We tried, and failed. And now it's Toffee's turn.


Toffee was also seen dragging a whole branch into the living room, as if it were prey. If they are all that determined to do themselves in, I give up!

Wendy seems to think the tree is going to Cause Her to Die. She’s been slinking around with dilated pupils or hiding since it arrived. She loved lying under our last three trees but this one is threatening her. At least she’s not eating it — how ironic if she were the only tree survivor.

We're waiting to decorate it until tomorrow, ideally after Harris and Toffee have had their chance to climb it and get that, at least, out of their systems. Ha. I'll keep you posted.

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