THE CAT SIDE Tom Cat Hisses Over Holiday Stress

My Christmas gift to you readers? You get to read my swell column two weeks in a row. Now, where’s my can of crab meat?

There’s nothing more cranky than a hungry cat, unless it’s a stressed cat. One shopping day until Christmas. Didn’t we just have a holiday, one that involved stuffing? Isn’t there another one next week where we all stay up too late?

Leave it to the human subspecies of this planet to cram three big holidays into five quick weeks. I can hear the lug nut nowwho came up with this brain flash.

“Hey, I’ve got it. First we’ll have Thanksgiving. Then before the dishes are dry we’ll plan Christmas. Now pass the confetti because a week later we’ll have New Year’s.”

I, Boat Dock, chief outdoors columnist and holiday party consultant, would give thumbs upto New Year’s, if I had thumbs.

You don’t have to cook or shop and there’s football.

We cats would never squeeze three major holidays into such few dates on the cat-photo calendar. Christmas is too much to take, what with a tree in the house that has shiny ornaments hanging from every bough.

They’re cat toys in my little joyto-the-world. And I’m told with a wagging finger not to touch.

Where’s the Prozac kitty treats?

Could be the fishing hooks.

My tightwad cat butler’s idea of Christmas ornaments are crank baits. Those Wiggle Warts are my favorites.

The War Eagle spinner baits twinkle like tinsel, and they’re made right here in Northwest Arkansas. I’ll admit the red andwhite bobbers are a nice touch.

Outside, it’s colder than a hound dog’s nose. My hiney is freezing.

I should have crawled into a box and FedExed myself outta here.

There’s no place like home for the holidays. A home in Fiji. To me, a white Christmas means sand and my tree should have coconuts.

There’s one thing I do like about Christmas. It’s the one day of the year my manservant gives me canned and not dry. Nine Lives doesn’t hold a Yule candle to the crab meat I’m hoping for.

How good does a cat have to be?

Merry Christmas from me, Boat Dock, and my cat butler, too.

BOAT DOCK IS THE FELINE OUTDOORS SCRIBE. HIS COLUMN APPEARS WHEN HE FEELS LIKE WRITING ONE.