Walkin' in a kitten wonderland

It's almost Christmas, and for the first time since 2002, we have a Christmas tree.

Okay, it's not a real Christmas tree. Our Fraser fir in 2002 was beautiful, but despite daily waterings, the needles dried out superfast and we couldn't vacuum them out of the carpet. I think we were still picking them out of the rug the day we moved out of that apartment. Also, the smell of all things tree-related sets off my asthma, so my inhaler got a workout that year.

So it's a fake tree this year. But it's a really really convincing fake tree! Just ask the cats, who have managed to scale all seven and a half feet. We weren't able to get our star-shaped tree-topper to work last night, but I think we might be able to stick our youngest, Joe, up there instead. She seems to be making herself at home there.

We went all out when it came to decorations: lights, garlands, my childhood tree ornaments, and some beaded ornaments from Paul's great-grandmother. I made a prominent place for a bird's nest ornament Mom and Dad gave me the first Christmas Paul and I were married. They bought it in 1971 after some enterprising store clerks told them a bird's nest in a Christmas tree ensures good luck for the year to come.

That doesn't seem to necessarily spell good luck for the bird itself, though. It was the first ornament Joe knocked down last night, and I found her under the tree chewing off the bird's tail feathers. I know, I know -- what was I thinking putting a bird ornament in our Christmas tree when we have two cats? What was I thinking to put up a Christmas tree at all?

We've reintroduced them to the concept of the spray bottle, and while Fred seems to be fairly well-behaved regarding Christmas tree etiquette, Joe hasn't caught on yet. To her, there is no correlation between doing something she knows is wrong and being sprayed in the face with water. She gets all angsty -- at least as angsty as cats can get -- then goes back to doing the exact same thing she was doing before. Ah, kittenhood.

When I woke up this morning, they'd dragged a bell ornament, a music note, a fabric Little Red Riding Hood, and two beaded icicles around the dining room and den. However, when I got home from work today, everything was intact. Everything. Garland, ornaments, the whole bit.

Joe got a treat and the "good girl!" pat on the head.

... And now, as I post, I hear her climbing in the tree. It's strange, how cats work. When I come home from work, they're asleep. Their litterboxes are clean and their food bowls are full. And then, suddenly, they decide they have to poop right now! and eat right now! and, at least around here, climb the gorgeous Christmas tree right now!

Is this a preview of parenthood?