Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house the cat had been clawing his tiny toy mouse.
“Now dearie,” she entreated, “Now sweetie, Damn Cat, you really shouldn'’t be treating your toys quite like that.”
The cat was some trouble, well everyone knew. The sweet old lady was batty. Quite nuts! It is true!
But she to her baking, and the cat to his game. Christmas was coming, every year twas the same.
She would bake up some crumpets to serve with the tea. Some brownies and cakes and some crackers for brie.
She baked apple dumplings, sugared and sweet; in case company came for a nice Christmas treat.
She steeped tea in the tea pot with cinnamon sticks while the cat thought of ways he could play some more tricks.
Tricks on the company that might happen by. Maybe some new dirty tricks he could try.
Well the cat thought and thought while his mistress was baking, and went to sleep with the grin on his face he was making.
The hour got late and she had a night cap, as the cat settled then in for a long winter’s nap.
She had hung up the stockings, one here and one there. With a little note for Santa she had written with care.
“Dear Santa, this year if you could look into your soul and give my Damn Cat something besides lumps of coal.”
Then up on the roof the reindeer landed with ease. “Ho, Ho, Ho…Now you all wait here silently please!”
Santa was careful. Oh, careful indeed! Not to wake up the cat who was a bad seed.
He’ had heard of the antics. Heard people complain. All the way to the North he ha’d heard of the pain.
That damn cat’s clawing and hissing and fights! He ha’d heard of the trouble and all of the bites!
So this year when he listed the good and the bad, the damn cat was found naughty, it made Santa sad.
But the rules are the rules and you know that is that. When a kitty is bad like that rotten Damn Cat.
So he hoisted his bag that was filled with sweet jellies, filled up to the brim with things like roast mellies!
Yummy figs in a jar, cherries jubilee in a bowl. For the cat nothing more than a big lump of coal.
Well then there was Santa, in the house by the tree. Cookies and milk. “Oh, these must be for me!”
He forgot for a moment to be watching his back. Forgot for a moment that the cat might attack.
And just as the cookie was passing his teeth he saw a dark shadow nearby underneath.
Underneath by the tree, boxes and bows, down by his boots near his feet by his toes.
The shadow cast longer and closer until…, he jumped and his cookies and milk took a spill.
He felt a chill up his back as he gulped for some air and ever so quickly said a short little prayer.
“Oh dearie I’m sorry did I give you a fright? I’m ever so happy you came over tonight.”
I’ve fixed us some tea and some crumpets you know. You must sit with me for a bit fore you go.”
Well, Santa was speechless, quite pale from the scare and quickly looked round case the cat was right there.
And she had the doilies and linens spread out. She plumped up a pillow. “Sit Santa, don’t pout.
“You needn’t be worried bout my cat who is tricky.” She winked. “On Christmas Eve I slip him a mickey.”
He’ll sleep till tomorrow. Awake, come the day. You see I just figured was safer this way.”
So Santa sat as her quest and ate the good crumpets they listened to music, bells, harps and some trumpets.
Then when he got up she tugged at his sleeve, “I’ll see you next year dearie, next Christmas Eve.”
At dawn the cat stretched as he tried to awake. His whiskers were tingly and he had a headache.
He stretched and he clawed to knock down his stocking and what he found there was really quite shocking.
There weren’t any lumps, no coal in the house. Santa had left him a new fuzzy toy mouse.

12/24/2004

Author's Note: For a clear understanding of just how bad a kitty this is, check out the ongoing saga in my folder....the Cat Poems (bad kitty!)

Posted on 12/25/2004
Copyright © 2024 Mary Ellen Smith