Mom put an elf-high stack of cushions on the folding chair she's been sitting on to fold and mail the family Christmas letter, in which the paragraph about me is longer than the paragraph about my sister. Which through some exponential algorithm proves my parents love me more, but I'm not very mathy so I can't explain how it computes in any useful detail.
Anyway, Mom has brokered a contingent MFN status with Bitch Kitty whereby Bitch Kitty will allow Mom to feed her three Whisker Lickin's tuna flavor crunchy & yummy(R) cat treats (which we can find only at the north-side Walmart) every morning and clean up indiscriminate piles of her vomit on the good throw rug or the new basement carpet no fewer than one (1) time per day in exchange for Bitch Kitty's right of first refusal to occupy the cushion pile when Mom isn't using it.
This being the holidays, I set up Mom's pro tem Christmas card table and chair in front of the tree so she could be awash in Christmas joy as she writes her heartfelt messages of everlasting friendship and profound human connection to Grandma's old neighbor who'd lost her husband and broken up a marriage then moved to Arizona with a tattooed vacuum cleaner repairman named Jerome and we think her new last name is Tickleshitz but we haven't heard from her in two years so this is our last attempt to contact her, assuming we even have her current address.
So with the tree lit and Bitch Kitty basking in its glow from her four-cushioned center of the universe, I naturally jumped at the opportunity to record for posterity the love we share for Christmas, for cushions and for her never-ending magnanimous benevolence. I even got her to lift her head for our portrait but she chose to express her love for me by gazing at my dad and not at me or even at the camera. But that's the kind of insouciant, devil-may-care love we share. We don't talk about it, but we both understand that as long as I pop in and out and take our selfie portraits within 8-10 seconds, she won't be forced to lacerate my jugular vein and attempt to remove my ear.
And that, my friends, is the true spirit of Christmas. And as you rush around in these last few days of holiday hustle and bustle, we honestly hope you can take some time to contemplate the meaningful relationships you have with your family, your friends and your pets and then make sure you leave Bitch Kitty the fuck alone.