It Has Begun

I didn't want to wrestle with the fake tree this year. Last year, I nearly tore my hair out just putting it all together, then arranging the branches. It is also a very large tree, so it dwarfed everything else in the living room. So last night, hubby and I went to a local store and bought a beautiful, real balsam fir tree.

Now it's a little crooked, and after we chopped off some branches to make it fit in the stand, it's also a little sparse on the right side. No matter. It was up within 30 seconds and no need to rearrange anything! It also smells wonderful.

It took me about 30 minutes or so to decorate it. I listened to Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra singing Christmas carols, and the only major interruption I had was when my son and husband were yelling at the t.v. downstairs (they were watching college football). Otherwise, it was a peaceful decorating experience.

I think it turned out quite beautiful.

However, the war has now begun.

As you can see by the photo, he is already plotting how to take down that ornament. A few minutes after I took this photo, this ornament became the first victim, rolling across the floor as Slick tore through the tree. But after that, he calmed down and sat under the tree, not bothering a thing. This was a calculated move to throw me off my guard, of course. You see, he has already set a precedent when it comes to his destruction of Christmas trees.

Last year, I tore my hair out over the damage Slick did to the tree on a daily basis. I would come home from work and half the decorations would be on the floor. I'd put them back, only to wake up the next morning and find them on the floor again. Our solution was to place a door in the doorway to the living room every night so he couldn't even get into the room. We just wedge it in place and though it's cumbersome and heavy, it does the job.

When I put up the door last night, Slick was not pleased. He sat in front of it and stared at it, as though he could, by sheer force of will, blast it to smithereens so that he could go and do his dastardly work. In retaliation for my opening volley, he proceeded to annoy me all night long. He woke me up once by scratching on my daughter's bedroom door. I yelled at him. He woke me up again when he jumped on my dresser and knocked over a bunch of stuff. Another yelling commenced. The third time, he woke me up by jumping on my husband's dresser.

When I stumbled out of bed this morning, bleary-eyed and unhappy, I removed the door to the living room and he ran right over to the tree, as though he heard John Wayne yelling, "Charge!" He began fiddling with ornaments, biting on the tree branches, and dismissing my commands to STOP. At one point, he literally had me running circles under the tree. That's when I said enough and put him in my bedroom, then shut the door.

That's where he's at right now. In short, he's been put in time out, like a naughty toddler.

My other cat, Kathryn, could care less about knocking off ornaments and making my life miserable. She loves to lay under the tree and take a nap.

She also loves to pose for photos.

I do believe, if she could talk, she would say, "Look at me! I'm the good one. I'm also cute."

Let the 2012 Christmas Tree War commence!