An Especially Gifted Pet

(I am 12. We have just taken in a stray Siamese cat my dad found outside of the doctor’s office. Around Christmas, my parents have already bought a couple of gifts, which the cat in question has torn into.)

Me: “Ah, I see I’m getting a leather-working kit!”

Mom: “No, you’re not. How do you know you’re getting one?”

Me: “[Cat] tore it open.”

Mom: *goes into her bedroom, shuts the door, and rewraps the present*

(Fast-forward to next Christmas season. [Cat] has taken to knocking the tree down.)

Mom: *coming home from work* “[My Name], why is the tree down on the floor?”

Me: “[Cat] must have knocked it down during the day.”

Mom: “Well, let’s get it back up. You know, it’s okay for you to put it back up if it’s down when you get home from school.”

Me: “Okay, mama.”

(This goes on for a few more days. Right after Christmas and before New Year’s, we take the tree down and put it back in the box. Then, a year later:)

Mom: “[My Name], do you want to put the tree up again this year?”

Me: “Only if you want to put it back up every time [Cat] knocks it down again.”

Mom: “I see your point.”

(It would be 20 years before we would put a tree up in the house again. Unfortunately during that time, [Cat] became really sick and was euthanized. Even after his passing, we opted to never put up the tree, for fear one of the other cats, especially the new Siamese we adopted, would do the exact same thing.)