It’s Christmas time.  You know, that time in Texas when it may or may not be cold.  This year, it is not cold.  It’s not even chilly; not even sweater weather.  It’s 75/80 degrees, 95% humidity and everyone is cranky.  For me it’s hard to get into the Christmas spirt when you’re wearing shorts with sleeveless shirts and still having to shave your legs.  Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather this than dying of hypothermia going to my mailbox. But, come on, really?  It’s Christmas!  When you don’t want to wear your ugly Christmas sweater because you will suffer from heat exhaustion, that’s a bad thing.

But worse than any of this is when you run into the Cat-hole.

Like most adults with children, we have pets.  I’ve typed about my Princess Fiona before; we have 4 dogs total, 3 doxies and an black Lab/horse mix.  We also have a Russian Blue Cat that pre-dates all the dogs.  This cat we call “Kitty” is 17 and is a total house cat.  He’s a good cat, for the most part.  He’s skin and bones even though he eats all the time.  Seriously, he’s eating constantly.   Almost like a teenage boy.

So it’s Christmas time, just a couple of days ago actually.  We’ve rearranged the furniture in the living room to accommodate the Christmas tree, so we have the end table that sits between the two chairs, where the hubby and I sit, pushed in front of the chairs.  Since the Kitty is constantly trying to take our food from us, or drink our beverages (he likes my cuppa), he usually jumps on the end table and goes between mine and the hubby’s chair.

With that in mind, on this particular day, he jumps on the end table and proceeds to knock over a huge glass of (sweet) iced tea.  Ice, glass, cat and coaster all end up all over the furniture, floor and the hubby’s computer backpack (of course)! I have never seen him look scared before…it was a sight to see.  I’ve been calling him an asshole for a couple of months because he’s really gotten brazen with trying to take the food off your plate (that’s one reason we don’t always eat at the dinner table), but the kids were around and I’m really trying to clean up my language, so now he’s a Cathole when he does something that I don’t like.  The hubby doesn’t like it, but I think it fits him purrr-fectly.

(By the way; the cat photo here is not my photo nor is it of my cat.  Kitty would not sit still to have his photo taken and I got tired of waiting on him.  I got this photo from https://pixabay.com/en/photos/cat/    Thanks!)