...Er, um, Hello!

My name is Augustus. I have parents. Sometimes life can be difficult. I possess the great skill of being able to charm the socks off of anyone who chances to spot me, a rare occurrence indeed. [The spotting, that is; not the charming!]
However, for you, Dear Reader, I am prepared to divulge my deepest thoughts and perspective of the world, mostly because if I don't tell somebody what is going on around here, I am going to pop!
But be warned, proceed with caution: Living with Mummy and Dad can be rather harrowing at times...

Saturday, December 21, 2013

In The Hot Seat



Oh, Christmastime – such a wonderful time!

I have always enjoyed this rich and full season because it is so, well, rich and full. That is, until Dad went away to heaven and Mummy became The Holiday Grinch, not wishing to decorate or make special treats and such. In fairness, she did give us our Christmas stocking last year, though admittedly it was not so fun without Dad. He always played with us, letting us chase ribbons and shred paper and scuffle with cheeky little mice that popped out at us from the toe of the stocking. Still, Mummy is lots of fun and tries to fill in but a kit needs his Dad, too. *sniffle*

Where was I?

Oh yes.

The exception to Mummy’s Grinchitis is when Relatives come over (which thankfully is happening this Christmas day) so that I have actually started to look at these occasions [of Relatives coming over] as happy ones because, you guessed it, Mummy goes all out! Since we are having a crowd on the old 25th of December, and since the Mumster has been remiss in her holiday duties of late, she is making up for lost time and pumping out treats and d├ęcor by the bucket load.

Everyone knows about my decorating skills but they may not know that I am also a Connoisseur of Holiday Foodstuffs. As Man of the House (and self-appointed Chief Inspector of Treats), I am following Mummy around, casually observing, sniffing and otherwise eyeing closely some delectable-looking goodies. On my third round of the kitchen counter today (conveniently timed for when Mummy has abandoned the room so as not to make her feel self-conscious, nothing to do with The Rules or anything like…), I discovered an especially wonderful treat – a warm seat for my derriere! (I am not absolutely certain but I think it might have been Sandy Claws who placed it there, perhaps in honor of my tiresome duties carried out in such a tireless way.

Or perhaps not.)

Regardless, I wasted no time in settling into place, feeling the ingratiating toastiness radiate toward my rear. I would also mention that it was appropriately decorated in a Christmas theme, drizzled in snow-colored, waxy-looking stuff and sprinkled with crushed peppermint candies. This warm seat exuded delicious aroma of the same – in a word, divinely inspired!

Only, Mummy seemed to have different ideas about the application of this seat as she rounded the bend and spied my fuzzy buns sunk in their little nest. She began flailing her arms and shouting something about peppermint barking (which I never knew it did) and that the whole thing was ruined.

What was ruined, I asked.

Christmas?

I started at the thought of my Holiday Hopes dashed upon the rocks below, then high-tailed it to the bedroom, bits of peppermint trailing my wake, with not a few attached to my tail feathers here and there.

Perhaps Mummy was right – if peppermint was this aggressive, it might indeed begin to bark. I had much to ponder, such as the true source of peppermint and the sinister forces behind its perpetuation.
 . The great news, I plan to tell Mummy, is that I do not require a warm seat to continue my duties so all is not lost. Carry on, I will say.

But not just now.

Later, when she loses the freshly replanted Grinch face….

1 comment:

  1. Poor Gussie - you are always in it, aren't you? Adorable!

    ReplyDelete