As the 18th century is sometimes called "the long 18th century," so our Catmas celebration was extra long. It began on December 10, when guests were invited to a Caviar and Champagne Party to celebrate the first anniversary of Cat Adoption Day.
In honor of which, this post may be dedicated to the Egyptian Goddess Bastet, whose tomb was just unearthed in Alexandria.
"In addition to being the cat goddess, this is also the god of joy that will make you happy."
Now (to resume my story), here is Pindar, still in jail, a nameless four month old Bengal Tabby kitten with a severe upper respiratory infection, on the day she became a Cat-Birchall (as they're listed in the vet's files).
A year later, the three sleek, fat, healthy, satisfied moggies, Pindar (Pindy), Catullus (Tully), and Martial the Magnificent Marshmallow Marshwiggle (Marshy) were turning their little noses up at the caviar we served them. Our guests didn't. Here are pictures of the festivities.
Three Birchalls (Peter, me and Paul) and three Cat-Birchalls. It took an entire year to get a picture of the six of us all together. (There were wiggle problems.)
Martial's opinion of caviar is evident
Herbert meets Martial
We were all tired
This was a hard act to follow, but we decided that Christmas would be Catmas. Friends complained that their cats ripped apart their Christmas trees, but that sounded like an excellent present for the cats. Being indoor cats, what would they love more than a tree to call their own, to climb on and scratch and bite and destroy? So we bought a smallish one home, but to our disappointment, they were singularly unimpressed.
Ah, well, we thought, when we decorate the tree, then they'll have the fun of tearing down the ornaments! Accordingly, we decorated the Catmas tree with cat toys. But the more heavily ornamented it got, the less interest they displayed. Our friend Pam gave each cat her own, individually embroidered, gorgeous stocking, and we hung them up for the cats, who didn't take notices. Here are the stockings.
Never mind, I said, we will stuff them with little jingly balls and things! They love little jingly balls, and it will be so funny to see them scoop out their presents with their paws and bat them around. So we filled the stockings, placed the cats in front of them, and...nothing. Nothing except that we've been treading on little smashed plastic jingly balls underfoot ever since.
But in the end, even though the cats' Catmas joy did not come up to expectations, they did enjoy the tree, in their quiet furry fashion. Underneath the tree was a very good place to hide, and the spectacle of cats lounging like little luxurious Sultanas, on their bed of gifts, was refreshing to our eyes, at least.
At New Year's, Paul and I went to Sequoia and saw some snow, leaving the cats with Peter.
I will close with a few portraits of the cats.
And this is our Christmas card. It was a happy Catmas, and I hope you had one too!