Falling asleep, reading, waking up at exactly midnight, remembering, the little elf that I am, had work to do.
After delivering cookies on 6, leaving a harmonica for Andy on 9, padding up to 12 depositing fruit cakes to two fruitcakes that live across from one another, I happily found Patrick, the cat, waiting by my door.
I bought him a Santa hat tucked in the gift bag for his dad, he’s now wearing as we raid the fridge.
Along with eggnog and an ice-cream chaser, we break open a can of sardines settling down for a nice chat.
After reading him, Twas The Night Before Christmas, his favorite part…when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse, he nestled on my lap.
Purring like a motor boat, listening to the story about the time catching my father eating the cookies I left for Santa, saying, he heard Santa was on a diet so he could squeeze down the chimney easier.
Just helping him out, he had said, eating those Lorna Dunes.
My mother got into the act offering to slice Santa a few carrots.
All I remember was being really pissed over the whole thing, even at 4, knowing, Santa was getting a bum deal.
“What’s that Patty? Another sardine? Let me fix your hat. Oh you like it tilted, Sinatra style? Okay. What was that? You’re a cool cat? I know that, but may I continue?”
Another time I caught my mother red-handed filling my stocking. When I said…hey…what are doin’ Ma, she said, Santa had called the day before to ask her to pick up a few things since he was running late at the North Pole. I wailed thinking Santa was screwing up, plus didn’t care about me, even after sitting on his lap, at Macys.
“Oh Patty, don’t cry, when you’re just a little kid, you forget stuff pretty fast. Didn’t that ever happen to you, when you were a kitten? Let me fix your hat again…
It’s all the same. Parents lie, like when my mother said, I deserved coal in my stocking, but lucky for me, they were all out. No wonder I’ve been in therapy since I was 8…
You know Patrick, this reminds me of when I would tell Fluffy, my first cat, all my secrets. She’d listen too, even without the hat and sardines. “
I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves.
My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.