Dobby and the Christmas Tree

“Mom! It's time! (Dobby's voice elevates to a screech and waivers out).

Mom can be heard from across the house. “Okay Dobby just a minute. Let me just move this table over...” Mom enters the den. “See kitty here I am.”

Dobby sits on the left of the big chair on a small kitty condo with a stale dead cricket in front of him he appears to be shivering.

“You don't sound right tonight.” Mom says as she arranges herself in front of the computer. “I brought you some warm milk substitute (cat safe milk) to go with your stale half eaten cricket? Since when do you eat the stale ones? You're shivering too. What's wrong?”

Dobby picks up the cat size mug of milk substitute, “What's wrong? You have been in the sewing room this week doing noisy things with boxes and tape. You are packing us up and unceremoniously dumping me in some strange place again aren't you?” Dobby's left paw shakes and some milk sloshes out of his mug.

“No I'm not.”

Dobby's right eye twitches. “I think you are.”

“Dobby, kitty, this is the holiday season. I can honestly tell you when the last day of Hanukkah arrives you will still be living in this house.”

Dobby listens to Mom closely. Thinks about her words and takes two long steps away from her position. Just in case.

“Lightning is not going to strike.”

“That's what you said the last time.” Dobby reminds her.

“That reminds me. I think I have just enough voltage left in this finger...” Mom holds up her left pinky.

Dobby takes another step away.

“I was just going to warm your milk for you.” Looking down at the slosh of liquid on the kitty condo. “What's left of your warm milk for you.”

Dobby stands back with his empty paw out in front of him, “Sorry Mom. I just don't trust you since you fixed my hair with that “pinky” of yours.” Dobby says.

“But that little Mohawk was so sweet. If you had just let me put some blue paint in the tips... You would have looked so cool. Seriously.”

“Mom. It wasn't funny. I was the oddity of the neighborhood. I don't know if you've noticed this little detail, this house has lots of windows.

“It wasn't that bad, kitty.”

Dobby crosses his eyes in frustration. “The squirrels were laughing. Have you ever had a squirrel laugh at you Mom?”

A high pitched giggle escapes from behind the Magic Door. “Hee hee hee...”

“No one takes you seriously when the squirrels have been laughing at you.” Dobby says turning around. Jumping from the short condo up to the top of the blanket chest Dobby shows Mom his butt and settles down on the chest with his back to her.

“That's fine kitty. You can be mad at me. At least you aren't shivering in fear anymore.” Mom starts typing at the keyboard.

“Mom?”

“H mm??”

“So, what have you been doing in the sewing room?”

“I'm moving things around. I thought we would try having the Christmas tree in there this year.”

“Christmas Tree?”

Mom stops typing, looks upward choosing her words, “Big green tree that I never watered and had funny things hanging off of it.”

“I remember that.” Dobby purrs. “No one has ever given me a tree before.”

“Christmas trees are a holiday decoration.”

“Oh. I really like it.”

"I know.  I had to keep you from destroying my Christmas decorations."

"Why did you do that?"

"They weren't for playing with."

"Mom?  They kind of were."

"No.  They weren't."

"Sorry Mom but they were.  I don't know if you have noticed this about me but,  I'm a cat.  If something is hanging down from a string...I'm gonna play with it.  Yep.  That's what cats do."

 "Dobby, honey, when it comes to the Christmas Tree you are just going to have to learn to restrain yourself."

Dobby sits quietly and looks around the room.  He considers closely Mom's statement.  "I've thought about and I have to say 'no'.  The idea of restraining  my natural urge to hunt is just not working for me. What else have you got?"

"That's it."

Dobby thinks for a minute.

 "Well how about if you put the tree in front of the sewing room window, the one that gets all of the sun.  I promise not to play with the funny things hanging off it if I can climb the tree instead."

"Nope.  You are much heavier than a few Christmas ornaments.  You would break the tree."

 "Let's decorate with stuff I can play with then."

 Mom stops typing and thinks about this.  "That would be encouraging you to play with the tree.  I don't want you to play with the tree."

 "It's training.  I will be learning restraint.  The toys are just insurance.  That way if I do slip up.  I am playing with a cat toy and not one of your pretty decorations."

  "I don't know about this kitty."

  "I have plenty of stuff.  The tree is up and ready for decorating?"

  "Yes..."  Mom answers slowly.

  "Let me decorate the tree so you can see what I'm talking about.  Just stay here.  Tweet, shop online, pretend to be writing, you know the usual.  I'll get you when I'm done."

  Mom stays in the den.  Dobby goes into the sewing room.  Mom's Elvis Christmas album can be heard throughout the house.

 Mom waits....

 Hours pass and still waiting...

A thump is heard from the other side of the house something breaks..."It's okay,  I'm not hurt."  Dobby exclaims.

There are a series of high pitched squeals heard from the basement.   "It's okay.  Everything's fine."  Dobby calls out. 

 

This could take a while...maybe he will be finished by next week.