A Christmas Tail

Gus seemed determined to celebrate his eleventh Christmas in feline fashion. The gaily wrapped packages and the sweet smells were designed to intrigue kitties. He stalked the presents under the tree, poking with his paw to test their response. None struck back so he felt safe. He could toy with them to keep himself occupied. He batted at the ornaments and crawled under the tree to dig his claws into it. These were the comforting rituals of Christmas, even more so given the current situation in our home. As the eldest pet for the past three years it had been his reign, but unsteady lay the crown. His sister Daphney disdained his love bites unreasonably. And now there was the dog. Presumptuous and informal, the dog ignored all the formalities a cat expected.

For Hamilton this would be his first Christmas. The first time he would smell pine needles and feel the briskness of winter. He would be thrilled by his first snow fall and the sensation of pouncing into the drifts. He would not share Gus' hesitancy, but rather, grab the gifts under the tree with exuberance until scolded to drop them, retreating in momentary penitence.

Nuance versus abandon, Christmas brought out the distinction in both of them.

Unfortunately for Gus, life was taking an inevitable turn. When Hamilton arrived as an eight- week-old puppy, Gus did what he could to maintain his position and to keep Hamilton from insinuating himself into his world. A timely hiss and a strategic claw kept Hamilton at bay and left a scar on his nose as a reminder of who ruled the domain of our modest apartment.

Now six months had passed and Gus, all of twelve pounds , was faced with a behemoth fast growing into sixty-five pounds of sinew and blunder. Being only seven months old, Hamilton hadn't absorbed the import of their growing discrepancy in size. To him Gus was still this intimidating creature to be avoided if possible. Each time he slinked by Gus I imagined him rubbing the scar on his nose with his paw.

On Christmas Eve my wife and I returned home tired from a party and went to bed early, early even for fifty-year olds. Normally I would take Hamilton out for his evening walk but that night I was too exhausted. This left him with too much energy. He decided to attack the presents, grabbing one and chewing through the wrapping. Somehow, the bow from the gift attached itself to his tail. Prudent though Gus was , the sight of the bow on Hamilton's tail was more than he could handle. He pounced immediately causing Hamilton to cry out and spin in an attempt to shake Gus off his tail. The momentum of his spin and the weight of Gus in the air resulted in the Christmas tree in our living room hitting the wall, knocking ornaments to the floor and felling the tree onto the coffee table.

Groggily I rose and entered the living room to see the shambles of our Christmas present. Hamilton and Gus peered out from under the tree. In their mutual culpability there was a new born camaraderie. The look of guilt on their faces caused my anger to subside. Anyway I was too tired. I left them there with the fallen tree and the newly opened gifts.

In the early morning we came out and found the two of them sleeping on the couch, Hamilton on his back and Gus curled up beside him. It was Christmas Day.