Covering the Floor with Toys

For many years, we have placed an artificial Christmas tree in our living room and adorned it with lights and toys in a manner consistent with people who hope for more lights and toys to be presented under its green-plastic presence come December 25.

For three years, not coincidentally the same number of Decembers that we have had Coco in the house, the majority of toys find their way to the floor long before the 25th, making the act of decorating the tree a near-daily event.

For being a chubby, rather uncoordinated, and remarkably clumsy Rag Doll kitty, Coco can zip up the tree, climbing nearly to its top, in a matter of seconds. The tree shakes with her ascension and toys tumble to the floor where her brothers await the falling bounty. The toys then visit the entire house at the direction of their paws, although most often delivered before the food dishes as if they were some sort of offering in exchange for full bowls of kibble.

Through all of this, Coco peeks out over the living room, her eyes wide and glowing against the lights, and her tail wagging out from the branches. Over these few years, the inner metal frame of the tree has become coated with her white and black fur, probably extracted from both her agile climbing and less impressive dives through the confines to the floor.

In fairness, most toys, while often displaced throughout the season, do not meet their demise at the teeth and claws of the cats. The only ornament that suffered this year was, oddly, a tiny cloth cardinal that looked much more real than the collection of Beanie Babies that mostly covers the branches. As if it were a real bird falling victim to the fat felines, the bird was dismantled feather by feather and spread across the living room.

I'm sure pretty, innocent Coco had nothing to do with this...