Just the other day Susan and I were chuckling over this photo blog thingy (clumsily) entitled '14+ Dogs and Cats That Destroyed Christmas.' It's far from unique, of course; there are lots of variations on this theme all over the Interwebs; cats do, after all, own it.
When viewing it we thanked our lucky stars that we seem to own a cat that (note: past tense) didn't seem to be interested in joining such a club, which we are aware has a great many members around the world. It's what they do. But then, as if on cue, he started taking ornaments off the Christmas tree in the middle of the night, and in the morning we'd find it or them somewhere it or they shouldn't be. This has continued for a few days, but the new trend is that he'll bring his new toys to the bed, so we'll wake up surrounded by all manner of sparkly junk.
This morning, we woke up to the spectacle you see above. Compared to the carnage unleashed by some of the little gits featured in those blogs, it's not a big deal, but that Reggie's Christmas tree obsession seems to be escalating naturally causes concern. Sweeping up the plastic pine needles the tree shed when falling, I managed to cut my finger open on a shard of broken ornament. My finger turned red, the air turned blue, and Reggie's name is currently suspended in favour of "Little Grey Mofo" until I've calmed down a bit.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE! (Except you, Reggie.)