Christmas Eve Surprise
As a child I spent every Christmas with my grandparents, and the Christmas that I was four years old was no exception. My mom packed our car full of gifts, our overnight bags, and of course our two cats Kiki and Tarrat.
Soon after arriving at Grandma and Grandpa’s old farmhouse Mom and I settled in by putting the gifts under the small tree in the living room and chatting with Grandma and Grandpa in the kitchen in front of the wood-burning stove.
Merrroowww! Crash! The sound came from the living room. More specifically it came from the Christmas tree in the living room. The four of us rushed in to see Kiki attacking the tree as if it were the last fish on earth. The tiny tree swung around, ornaments flew off, and Kiki had a look on his face of pure crazed kitty ecstasy. If Kiki could have said “weeeee!” I swear he would have. Tarrat was quietly observing, in awe of her feline friend. Grandma panicked, “Get that cat off my tree!” she yelled. Grandpa found the sight hysterical. My mother and I were too shocked to do anything but watch the poor, defenseless tree pivot dangerously with our crazy cat barely holding on by a paw.
The tree finally tipped over, bringing Kiki down with it. Grandma chased the cat, which ran and hid under the couch. Mom and I cleaned up the mess, noticing that all the presents were intact. And Grandpa? He was still chuckling.