I hope Laura wired up the tree so it won't fall over, just in case Hilde tries to climb it. When I first moved to New York City just after the 1972 election (it was one of the only places left where humans could be safe), I shared a studio apartment on the Upper East Side with a Student Veterinarian whose name escapes me for a moment. He had two kitties. They had a great time climbing the Christmas tree. And knocking it over. And destroying half of my ornaments at a go. So I started wrapping wire around the tree trunks, and fastening it to the wall or baseboard.
Gosh, I hadn't thought of that apartment for awhile. It was way east on 87th Street, about a half a block from the Mayor's Mansion. It was extraordinarily safe. Single women could (and did) walk their dogs around there at 3am without worry. Our next door neighbors (who became a one apartment, not two) were a radio DJ who broadcast as "Roy Fox", and his girlfriend Ada. She was a stewardess, and a real sweetheart. Every great now and again, she'd bring us a baguette baked fresh that morning. In Paris. Bitch.
My kitty, Jezebel, never exhibited the slightest interest in messing with the Christmas tree. She never climbed it, even though I always wired it up just for safety's sake. She never swatted at low hanging balls, either. I always thought she enjoyed the tree as much as I did and didn't want to mess it up. In all truth, she was probably indifferent to it.
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Ahhhh, lookit the time. I have got to run and get cleaned up or I'll miss the bus...
1 comment:
Dahling, thank you. And Hildebeest is looking forward to meeting you. I waited to see how she'd be with a tree and so far she's like Jezebel. No interest at all. Food, being petted, sleep and staring out the window seem to be her only raisons d'etre. We, and all our things, only exist within those parameters.
And as I wrote that she reached out a paw and knocked over a cup on my desk spilling all the doodads in it. Better anchor the tree and not use Nana's ornaments this year.
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