Christmas Kitty.

Christmas was a little rough this year with my brother’s wedding and all. And our cat Elvis, who loved Christmas, passed away over the summer; he was nineteen. So this was the first year without my brother here on Christmas morning, and our first Christmas without Elvis.

Elvis used to play around in the tissue paper and wrapping, either chasing shadows or one of his toy mice, which he would chew the tail off and eat it, and then continue to beat it up until the fake skin was separated from the plastic. (Despite this display of brutality I assure you, he was a very kindhearted and friendly fellow).

Our other cats never really seemed to care. They would play with their new toys, but not usually in the wrappings or with as much gusto. And my mother’s cat Spike is an old humbug and just sits on the sideline watching everyone having fun and hating it. Were he not fat and lazy, I suspect he’d pull a Grinch and steal Christmas except he wouldn’t bring it back.

But this year, our cat Scooter started playing in the wrappings. We don’t know why, he never did before, but he was in the tissue paper, diving for toys or nothing (as we saw it). Mom said it had to be Elvis’ spirit. So for fun, we took down Elvis’ ashes (we put him in an empty bottle of Elvis Presley brand wine) and placed the bottle next to Scooter.

And for fun, here is a picture just of Elvis in his bottle, chilling on the coffee table: