I jumped down and stalked round the tree, looking at that robin from all angles. The shiny baubles attracted me too and I sat in front of one, fascinated to see a tiny cat inside, a cat that moved when I moved. There was a room in there with a window and a fire burning. Could it be a mirror? I peered behind it, but it was perfectly round, a ball on a string. Gretel must have hung it there for me to play with. I patted it experimentally, and the whole tree shivered and shook and glittered in new places.
‘NO,’ said Gretel in that warning kind of voice I hated.
I looked at her and her aura had spikes.
‘Fuzzball! NO. You are not to play with the Christmas tree.’
By now, I knew what NO meant. My back and tail twitched with irritation. Didn’t cats have any rights? Why couldn’t I play and be joyful? Turning my back on Gretel, I sat in the doorway pretending to wash.
‘Good girl,’ she said, but I ignored that. I knew I was going to play with that Christmas tree when the opportunity came. I dreamed about it all night and, in the morning, I curled up in my favourite chair and pretended to be asleep. Gretel came and looked at me, her car keys jingling, but I didn’t move, even when she stroked me softly and told me she was going to fetch her mother.
I listened to the engine of her neat little blue car, and the slam of the garage door. She had gone. I got up and flexed my muscles, ate some of the mashed sardine she’d left for me, and swanned into the lounge.
The Christmas tree was still there, glittering expectantly, and now it was mine. Fantastic bubbly joy filled my heart; I was so happy, and I wanted that feeling to last. So I moved in slowly on the tree, my eyes chasing its moving points of light. I chose a pink shiny bauble and messed about, touching noses with my reflection. I patted it and watched everything shake and settle down again. There was a wild feeling deep in my being, charging me up like an electric cat.
A few more swipes from my paw, and the pink bauble was off the tree. I chased it across the floor, under the chair and out again. It rolled under the sideboard and wouldn’t come out. So I swiped another one down and batted it into the kitchen, where it went ping-pinging across the tiles.
I leaped and twirled, and belted round and round the tree in a frenzy of fun, swiping more and more baubles until they were scattered everywhere. I chased them north, south, east and west, skidding and pouncing and tearing the carpet with my claws. I got the miniature white teddy bear down, carried him in my mouth into Gretel’s bedroom, and pushed him into the toe of one of her slippers, thinking I’d have another game later getting him out.
The fat Father Christmas went under the sofa where my collection of secret comfort toys was hidden– my catnip mouse, a Babybel cheese, and various bits and pieces from the garden. With my heart beating very fast, I sat for a moment, looking up at the tree. A few smaller baubles were left at the top with the skinny fairy. I didn’t fancy her but I wanted that robin SO much.
The only way to catch him was to leap high into the prickly branches. It was hard, but the challenge fired me up even more. I leaped until my fur felt on fire, my paws hot and tingling. At last, I had the robin between my paws, in mid-air, and I wasn’t going to let go. I fell backwards and the tree toppled right over, spilling earth on Gretel’s pink carpet, and I had to crawl out from under it, the toy robin in my mouth, my heart thudding with excitement.
It had been a wonderful morning and, worn out, I took the robin onto the windowsill behind the curtain. I tucked my paws under myself and went blissfully to sleep with my chin on it.
Hours later, Gretel pushed open the back door and dumped her shopping on the table. There was a crunching, cracking sound. Still sleepy, I stayed behind the curtain.
‘What’s that doing here?’ she shrieked.
‘Looks like a bauble off the tree,’ said another voice, an old quavery sort of voice. ‘And you’ve trodden on it. Where’s the dustpan?’
‘Don’t fuss, Mum. I’ll sweep it up in a minute.’
I listened in growing alarm as Gretel came into the lounge and saw the wreckage.
‘Oh, NO!’ she howled. ‘What an unbelievable mess.’
Feeling the shockwaves, I stayed hidden behind the curtain. I was in terrible trouble.
‘It’s that CAT. That CAT’s done this!’
‘I told you not to have a cat, dear. I wouldn’t have one.’
‘How can ONE CAT make such an almighty mess?’
‘You’ll have to get that carpet steam-cleaned, dear.’
‘I worked so hard to keep this place decent. The Christmas tree looked wonderful, and it’s ruined … RUINED.’ Gretel began to make the most alarming howling noise. I listened in horror, thinking I should run to her and purr. I fluffed my fur, kinked my tail and padded out from behind thecurtain with my face bright and friendly.
‘There you are!’ she screamed. ‘You little BEAST of a cat. Look what you’ve done. Look at it.’