A kitten’s first Christmas

Jennifer Vanderau
Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter

(12/2024) I like the Christmas tree. Like, really like it. The branches are wide enough that my paws fit perfectly and thankfully, I’m small enough to slide right up the trunk. I can’t really make it all the way up because things get a little less sturdy the higher I go, but I’m just about at eye-level with the humans.

The people don’t ever know I’m here and the dog can’t find me either. I never would have guessed when my new family started talking about Christmas it could be this much fun.

They adopted me a few months ago from the animal shelter. I’m still kind of little – not a year old yet – and I had to say goodbye to my brothers and sisters at the shelter. We came in with mom and still lived together in the cat adoption area. I was sad to think about not having them in my life anymore, but something happened the day the family brought me into the bonding room.

I just knew when I looked in the lady’s eyes and how careful her kids were with me that I’d be okay. I was right. I pretty much rule this house, if you want the honest truth. Even the dog, Charlie, gives me space if I side-eye him a little.

He’s a Lab mix, though. Those guys can be pushovers. That’s what one of the cats at the shelter told me on the day I got adopted.

So far since I moved into the house, I’ve slept in the dog’s bed, tried a little of his kibble, walked across the bookshelf (which is pretty high up there, if I do say so myself), knocked over everything on the coffee table more than once, changed the channel on the TV right in the middle of that show they all like and did something to Dad’s computer when I walked across the keys that took them a whole day to figure out how to fix.

Oh, and I climb the curtains. What? They’re the perfect material for my claws. Sometimes you just have to see if you can make it to the top. That’s all I’m saying.

And you know what? Still, at night time, the nice lady lets me curl up next to her head on her pillow and I purr and she kisses me.

Can you believe it? After all that, she still kisses me! Seriously. I am the king around here. No joke.

The little boy walks through the living room and points at my hiding place in the tree and hollers, "Mom! Simba’s in the tree again!"

Time to go! I turn around on the branch and kick through the limbs and ornaments and tinsel and I guess I miscalculated something – the angle or my own strength or the general sturdiness of the tree or something – because just as I make my jump I sense the tree going the other direction.

By the time I land on the floor and turn around, I get to watch the whole thing fall right into the middle of the living room. I’m pretty sure the sound I hear is the water from the tree stand spilling onto the carpet.

The boy screams and his sister races into the room to see what’s happened and she screeches, "Simba! Oh my God!"

Charlie even barks at me. I try not to roll my eyes, but come on. Is he serious? What’s he going to do?

It’s maybe five seconds later that the man and woman are in the hallway staring at the mess on the floor and I know maybe a moment of real worry. I’d heard stories from the other cats in the shelter about reasons people surrender animals. A couple of the stories weren’t even close to what I’d just done.

I crouch low on the floor. Maybe if they don’t see me I could figure out a way to blame Charlie.

Mom inhales slowly and looks right at me. Uh oh. This is probably it. I’m in for it. I’ll be back in the shelter by tomorrow, which would be a shame because these are really nice people. I really do like it here.

Mom looks to the girl and says, "Ashley, get Charlie out of here. There’s broken ornaments and I don’t want him to tramp on them." She says to the boy, "Gabe, grab the vacuum cleaner from the closet for me, would you, please?"

The Dad reaches down and rights the tree – ornaments and lights and tinsel twinkling. Probably not in the way the humans meant it to, though.

There are some sighs and a question of how could something that little make this big of a mess? and a general sense of awe and confusion, but none of them – not one – does a thing to me. They don’t scream at me or hit me or even pretend they’re going to punish me.

I slink under one of the chairs and watch the clean-up and part of me really thinks the cat carrier will come out when they’re done and we’ll be heading back to the shelter. They can’t possibly be okay with this.

The Dad who watches DVDs of an old show called MacGyver says he thinks he can figure out a way to anchor the tree to the wall so this won’t happen again. The Mom says that would probably be a good idea. Gabe says, "Simba’s really bad, Mom."

And Mom says, "He doesn’t mean it, Gabe. He’s just a kitten."

Huh. Is this for real? Just to be sure, I stay under the chair even after the vacuuming and the clean-up is finished. I don’t even go into the kitchen when everyone eats dinner. It’s only when dessert comes out that I sneak around the corner and give Mom a quick glance.

Mom laughs when she sees me and points for the rest of the family to turn and look. "It’s okay, Simba. You’re a little stinker, but we knew that when we met. Just try not to hurt yourself or anything, okay?"

I slip around the chair legs and move over to Charlie’s bowl and take a couple of bites because apparently I can.

Wow. Did I hit the jackpot here or what? These people are awesome.

It’s a few hours later and I’m taking a bath in Charlie’s bed when the family turns on Christmas carols and sits around the tree that’s only a little worse for wear. I glance up with my paw still near my mouth and Mom actually smiles at me.

I sigh a little to myself. I may actually understand what humans mean by the Christmas spirit. Looks like I found it with these people.

And also a little something called unconditional love. Best present ever if you ask me.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Jennifer Vanderau is the Publications and Promotions Consultant for the Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter and can be reached at cvascomm@cvas-pets.org. The shelter accepts both monetary and pet supply donations. For more information, call the shelter at 263-5791 or visit the website www.cvas-pets.org. CVAS also operates a thrift store in Chambersburg. Help support the animals at the shelter by donating to or shopping at the store.