J and I spent the days after Thanksgiving reveling in the holiday hoo-hah. We put the tree up, put lights on the outside of the house, lit a yummy-smelling Christmas candle, then humiliated the cats.
In previous years, I would've put the Santa hat on Emily and the antlers on Mojo, but recently, the Moj has overtaken his pseudo-sister in the girth category, weighing in at a ponderous 16 pounds to her 13. So he seemed a better fit for the red and white cap.
Despite his additional poundage, Mojo has all the energy of his younger, lighter self. I gave the cats several "calming chewable treats" before our photo session, but little Mojo Claus still struggled to get out of his festive cap as soon as I set him on the ground.
Emily, by comparison, seemed stunned by the antlers that had been attached to her head. We put the little hat on her, then set her down on the floor and she just stayed there as if she was in shock. She didn't move for several minutes, not even to try to back out of the antlers as if they were a fuzzy brown Elizabethan collar. It was as if she had seen the Star Wars Holiday Special in its entirety and found herself drained of the ability or will to move. (More on that televised atrocity of yore in the coming weeks...)
I still wonder if maybe there's something ethically dodgy about delighting in the torment of one's critters, but I can't deny the magic of a fuzzy belly topped by a Santa hat or the sight of a "rein-cat." The look of incredulous indignity on their furry little faces as they're forced into a holiday tableau just adds to the delight of the season.