Oh, Christmas Tree

“Look, Dad, the cats are in the Christmas tree!”

My daughter Sky said it with delight and whimsy… like she’d just spotted a baby deer prancing through the forest. By the time I rounded the corner to the living room, our pets had already scampered away. Left behind was the carnage of their mischief - drooping branches that left the midsection of our tree completely bare. We hadn’t even decorated it with ornaments yet, and already it was deformed.

I couldn’t help but wonder which cat initiated the hijinks. Mocha is the newest addition to our family. She’s very sweet but also mischievous when she gets bored. She came back to the scene of the crime shortly after it happened. This might suggest innocence, but I’ve seen enough murder mysteries to know that some psychopaths like a front-row seat in the aftermath of their actions.

Then there’s Eggnog - a feral kitty that showed up on our back porch last fall. During the January blizzard, he came inside and never left. Before he became a permanent fixture in our home, he roamed the streets of northwest Omaha, eating birds and mice and sleeping under porches. While still wild, I saw him climb halfway up the tree in my backyard, trying to catch a squirrel. Compared to that athleticism, hopping into our Christmas tree would be easy… like an Olympic long jumper playing hopscotch.

In any case, both cats have been putting on weight recently. I suppose it’s instinctual as they fatten themselves up for the cold winter months. Unfortunately, these extra pounds spelled the end for the branches on the tree. It’s an artificial tree with branches made of metal and plastic. I tried forcefully pushing them back in place. Alas, it was like trying to nail pudding to the ceiling, and they immediately fell back down. I did my best to MacGyver a solution, but in the end, it was like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.

In the true spirit of the holiday season, we carried on. My daughter and I wrapped the tree with lights and hung all the ornaments as we laughed about where and when we acquired each decoration. It filled us with nostalgia as we discussed Christmases of the past. Sky is now ten, which means this might be the very last Christmas where she’s a true believer. I breathed in the magic of the moment, letting it fill my heart with joy.

When we were all done, we stood there in silence and marveled at our work. By this time, our cat Eggnog had climbed inside the box used to store Christmas decorations. Mocha was resting underneath the tree as though she, herself, was the best present we’ll be receiving this year. Looking the tree up and down, I couldn’t hold back a laugh. Sky asked what was so funny. I pointed out that despite my best efforts to fix the branches, there was still a concave bald spot in our tree. It looked unbalanced and lopsided as it leaned forward at an awkward angle… much like my uncle after drinking too much spiked apple cider.

Sky inspected the tree’s imperfection and began chuckling herself. “Welp, she won’t win any beauty pageants,” I said, “but she’ll light up our house just like she always has.”

It’s not the kind of tree you’d see in a Hallmark movie or a holiday magazine. But it’s ours, and we love it. I suppose the beauty of the holiday season is that it’s perfectly imperfect. Mistakes happen. Accidents are to be expected. Sometimes, things go a little sideways, and all we can do is adapt.

In 1992, I found presents in the trunk of our station wagon that my mom forgot to hide.

In 2009, Omaha endured a terrible blizzard on Christmas morning. By sheer determination or perhaps by a miracle, all my extended family braved the treacherous roads and made it safely to my grandparents’ house to celebrate.

In 2017, Santa gifted a fish tank to my daughter Sky, who was then three years old. We got a beta fish from the pet store the following day, and she named it Milwaukee. Sadly, Milwaukee died in less than twenty-four hours, but the pet store was nice enough to give us a replacement fish (Milwaukee #2 or M2 for short.)

And in 2021, my mom gave my nephews gift cards which were then lost among the mess of wrapping paper and debris. To everyone’s surprise, the gift cards were found six months later inside a cardboard box.

I do believe 2024 will go down in history as the year of the wonky tree. Some might wince while looking upon our tree with pity. Not me. I view it as a lovely reminder that we have two new additions to our family this holiday season. Mocha and Eggnog will celebrate their first Christmas at our house. Our other cat, Darwin, got his wings earlier this year, so Eggnog and Mocha have done a wonderful job at filling that hole in our hearts… even though they’re creating holes in Christmas trees.

Cheers to all of you, dear readers. I’d like to propose a toast. Here’s to the holiday season and all its unexpected glory. Here’s to the messes and mishaps. Here’s to the lopsided trees and spilled hot cocoa. Here’s to the magic that will deck your halls and jingle your bells. Here’s to family and friends near and far. May December bring you happiness, peace, and plenty of memories to cherish in the years to come.

Andy

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