Boxing Day Mancats With Krampus Bowties, No Boxes.
What kind of fresh hell is this? Boing Day Mancats? Krampus on Christmas? You might think so if you visited our house. Merlin here, and it was my first Christmas shall we say, not in situ and no one was in the mood to celebrate. There was no tree, no decorations, no gifts, at least not ones gift-wrapped. There are no boxes to play with on boxing day because the only parcels that arrived have stuff in them, like our Black Cat Tells All Calendars (get yours here) and diabetes supplies and glucometer for Clyde.
This is our last Mondays with Merlin in 2016. Can you believe it? There is some heavy duty thinking going on and we’re pondering our blogging path for 2017. I’ll give you a clue.
We didn’t have a white Christmas. More earth-toned and somber. When a loved ones dies near a big holiday it’s colors the holiday, sometimes forever. You see, our dear Gris Gris, my good friend made a sudden departure for the great beyond three years ago. He was always racing around even at age 16 in any season (even in the snow) happy as could be on Christmas Day, rushed to the vet on Boxing Day from stroke and died the following day. I don’t see much of him now that we’re beyond the mortal coil but we do connect in a flash if we need to. That’s how souls and energy work, much like the Internet only without glitches. This is a short remembrance before Clyde an Odin have some sharing to do. They aren’t fast friends but getting along. There is some interesting time sharing going on and general equanimity. Thank Bast for small mercies.
Odin here, reluctantly. I like being on Instagram where I hang out most days. This is how I feel about posing and the holidays. Blah. Our friends in Canada, U.K. N.Z. and Australia are celebrating Boxing Day. I have no good boxes left. Can anyone share theirs? I’m playing more with Nou Nou since I can’t go outside as much and I live for the outdoors. My new older, way older bro, Clyde does not like playing with boxes or much else. He doesn’t much like me neither. He’s really more human than cat, and that damned Scottish accent is driving me crazy. He had the nerve to wear a festive plaid bow tie. Who does he think he is? Sean Connery? He’s certainly old enough.
Did I hear someone call my name? Odin, you young whippersnapper. Didn’t anyone teach you to respect your elders? And cover your privates, you rude boy. Be nice and I might share my catnip toys from BewitchedCatnipToys with you. I’ll be rrrrreporrrrrting again soon. Maybe next year. Maybe sooner than the time to sing Auld Lang Syne, which by the way is Scottish, dontcha know.
Until next time, bye for noo, Clyde, Domino, Odin, Nou Nou and of course the eternal major domo and the boss of all of us Merlin.