Friday, I moved the piano and put up the bottom section of our artificial Christmas tree. Just the bottom.
We have catlets. Two feline teenagers, about 9 or 10 months old, who are into everything. Everything. All the time. EVERYTHING.
We aren’t worried about our 3-year-old former feral. Last year was her first indoor Christmas. She was interested in the tree while we were taking the pieces out of the storage bag and putting it together, late in December. It looked like a tree, after all.
She had loved trees while she was living outside. Great exercise, tree climbing. Trees are great places for sharpening claws into razor-sharp weapons. She loved trees, real trees. This, though it looked like a tree, didn’t smell like a tree. So, after the first sniff and experimental taste test, she carefully ignored the tree until we took it down in January. She’ll be fine with it this year, too.
The catlets, though…we weren’t so sure about them.
So, Friday was Stage 1. They raced around the bottom section in the stand. They bounced on the springy lower branches a few times (no harm done). They played hide-and-seek with the other two sections on the living room floor, around and under and through. Then, they napped.
Saturday, I put up the middle section of the tree. Again, mild curiosity because Something Changed. There were a couple of creaks and thumps overnight, sounds indicating that the catlets were still playing with the new addition to their territory, so we’re not adding the top section until tomorrow.
Wish us luck.