Mr. Jingle Bells

Christmas morning my friend called with a holiday tale about her temperamental cat. (Yes I have a cat and no I’ve no intention of becoming a cat lady). Anyway, here’s the story.

 

It was Christmas morning in the house without a mouse, the only creature stirring was Mr. Jingle Bells. My friend eased down the stairs to see the family cat scaling her picture-perfect Christmas tree. The bulky tabby paused for a second and looked like he was estimating the distance between the tree topper angel and the parakeet swinging in the cage by the window. By the time she realized what was about to happen, her acrobatic cat had leapt from the angel’s wings and dove onto the birdcage. As the heavy feline landed on the metal bars, the cage started to swing. Jingles gripped with his hind claws and then swatted through the bars with his front paws. The tiny yellow bird fluttered.The cage swung back and forth, higher and higher until the stand finally lifted on edge, tipped over, and crashed into the Christmas tree. 

 

My friend ran down the remaining stairs as the tree teetered and tumbled to the floor. She frantically waved her hands through the air and swatted Mr. Jingles from the cage. But she was too late; the bird laid flat on the floor. Dead. Heart attack. 

 

As a result of all the commotion, her four kids woke to see their pet bird belly-up in its cage. “Mom do something,” her youngest squealed. 

 

My friend quickly grabbed the bird and blew air up his butt (Ok, I don’t know what to say, she said that was what her dad always did when she lost a pet.) and attempted to give the parakeet bird to mouth resuscitation. She failed. The bird couldn’t be revived.

 

*Note to self: There are just some things that should stay in families. Remember to use a filter.

 

*Hot holiday gift for 2012:  Martha Stewart’s busted Christmas.

 

E.L. Chappel author of Risk

Keeping a closer eye on my cat

aka The Glamorous Wife