I Can Tell Christmas is Coming.

Well it's getting close to that time of year now when the humans start messing about with things in my house. A tree, yes that's right, a tree has appeared in the living room. One's first thought used to be that the humans had bought me a super litter tray with interesting garden features. How nice it would be to go to the toilet in the warm indoors instead of crouching in a bitter wind in some chilly damp corner of the garden under the laurel hedge! But no, there's not enough space for digging ablution holes round this specimen and worse, it's been festooned with winking lights. Who wants to go to the toilet in the middle of Piccadilly Circus! It's a very private moment for us puss cats as you know.
A small compensation can be appreciated in that there are some dangly balls hanging within reach which are easily batted onto the floor and can be chased around with some energetic enthusiasm. Indoor Mouse hunting practice for Millhouse and me.
I also seem to recall that the humans will be cooking a monster 20lb sparrow sometime soon, of which we're usually allowed to share the more gobbley, scrappy bits. I never see this bird land in the garden, it's always carried in from the car so maybe it's roadkill. A good ten minutes of head nodding chewing required there, methinks.
Soon there'll be a higgledy piggledy pile of boxes under this newly incumbent tree and, with ominous predictability, there's probably some silly imitation red and purple mouse or stick with a pink feather on it for us to play with. Stunningly lifelike these lumps of junk! You see as we cats get older, we're not so easily taken in by such human petty tomfoolery but, just to please the humans, we'll eye the toys with pretend interest as they wiggle them about for a boring five minutes. Best technique is to make it look as though you're going to pounce on the pathetic thing they've bought you. That way they carry on twiddling it about for ages even though you've quietly sauntered off when they weren't looking, and gone to sleep on their bed.
After all, "'Tis the season to be sleepy, zzz zzz zzz zzz zzz zzz."
The worst part about this season; this little human holiday, is that the humans are indoors for a a whole week actively spoiling ones freedoms, peace and quiet. In fact making complete nuisances of themselves in my house.
I've just wangled my second breakfast this time out of human No.2 (serves him right for not communicating with human No.1!), and am considering whether to go for a nice steamy snooze in the teenage human's hell-hole upstairs or a more civilised lollop in the older humans' vast boudoir. (Which, incidentally, is usually mine during the daytime by right of my age.)

Season's fishy wishes from one old puss to all of you!
Herky