As far as Sunday evenings are concerned, tonight has been fairly peaceful and even joyful. Phil assembled the Christmas tree. Yes, we went fake this year due to last year's massive tree dry out days before Christmas arrived. Apparently, my inattentiveness to anything that doesn't whine is the cause behind this fiasco. I didn't remember to water the tree. More accurately, I didn't remember to *nag* someone over the age of 10 to water the tree.
So when my sister, her husband and their four beautiful offspring came to visit over the holidays and sleep in the living room with our crispy tree, they were constantly getting harpooned by the pine needles which were as sharp as tacks if not as strong. "Merry Christmas, lemme pull that pine needle out of your back, hope you slept well." Errr.
The tree situation took a turn towards dysfunctional when Piper (our cat, Piper Martin if you like to address pets like the vet offices do) found, much to his catty delight, that he could...wait for it...drink out of the tree stand. Holy shit...who'd been keeping this from him all these Christmases prior?! And he definitely enjoyed the pine flavor, almost a minty undertone that the water had.
I think he grew dependant. 'Tis alright Piper, we all have vices. Some days, the ones that were especially trying (say he had a mix-up with Boogie, our dachshund, or he got in a fight with his neighbor/brother cat Zac) he would be hitting that treewater like every other hour.
I guess I shouldn't have written it off to kitty cotton mouth (he hangs out with Phil alot) and recognized it for what it was...kitty emotional distress, but I was pregnant (like always) and tired (like always) and really didn't give a shit (like always).
As a consequence, Piper developed a real bad habit that he struggles with daily. When he's aching for a fix, toilet water just doesn't cut it.
Remembering this story makes me feel really bad that we put up the fake tree. He's gonna be so pissed when he sees we tricked him. That'll be a picture for the family scrapbook.
