Twas the day before Christmas and all through the house
The kitty was hoping for something bigger than a mouse.
The tree which had wonderfully sat on the floor
Was lopsided now, the ornaments, well, no more.
The lights that were on it were off and cold
And the wires chewed just so by the best and the bold.
The stockings that hung on the fireplace so neat
Were shredded now, ‘cause he’d looked for a treat.
The people were ticked off, pointy fingers pointed out
While they stuttered and stammered and tried not to shout.
They pulled on their hairs, they attempted to say
“What’d you do? What the heck? Oh for… What the hey?”
The tree, it did mock me, the kitty replies
Its blinking lights blinking offended my eyes!
Not a thing with my name was under that tree
Not a present, not a gift bag; there was nothing for me.
“But Santa…but SANTA!” the person did say
And she huffed and she puffed and stomped, stomped away.
‘I forgot about him, the kitty,’ he pondered
Then he looked at his mess, and he sighed and he wondered
“Could Santa pretend I was not out of line
And presume I engaged in some feline design?”
He knew Santa was cool and was never a jerk
And Santa would admire the depth of this work.
“No worries to worry,” the kitty did think
As he turned to his fountain and got him a drink.
A nap he would take, dream of cheese, maybe gouda
And when Santa came…well, he’d just have to blame Buddah.
As he drifted off in a satisfied haze,
In his thinks he thought, “Doods, HAPPY HOLIDAYS!”