This is how we do holiday decoration:
(For the curious, Pooh and Tigger are the players. Stitch is just watching. For now.)
Also, I sent Christmas bears rampaging through the house. Because, you know, bears.
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But putting up the tree had its scary moments -- not about the tree, exactly, but because this is the first time the Little One has not immediately come out to help.
He's twelve now; sometimes it's difficult to remember, since he still does his mad dashing about the house and leaping upon a Grey One not at all grateful for the attention, and still leaps to the top of the bookshelf, although now he does this from the television set, not the floor. And any thoughts I had that he might really be slowing down were cancelled with the advent of the cold weather, which sent him rushing around again.
But he's certainly sleeping more than he once did, and playing with his toys a little less. A few days ago the generally more sedate (and invisible) Grey One was the one chasing a moth while he slept.
This is the best, friendliest and most responsive cat I've ever had. And so, when I realized I was putting up the tree without his help, I felt a horrible pang -- and an incredible relief when he trotted out later, sniffed the boxes and curled up on the couch to watch. I had to stop to put him in my lap for awhile. You understand.
He's collapsed against me now, purring, demanding scratching. I think I'll give in to the demand.