I hadn't truly acknowledged, celebrated, or enjoyed a Christmas for the past several years. This wasn't a conscious decision, or due to any unpleasant feelings toward Christmas, or bad associations. I guess I can only attribute my lack of participation to laziness, and not really having my whole family around. My family is rather loose when it comes to traditions, and if my mother was working a shift at the hospital, Dad and I would be equally content to stay at our separate homes by ourselves, eat whatever, maybe watch a movie... just relax and enjoy an extra day off. In 2009, I had just moved up here to Seattle 4 days before Christmas, so I had a legitimate excuse to ignore the holiday that time. I hadn't unpacked my Christmas decor, nor did I know anyone at all in my new town with whom I could acknowledge Christmas. I did cook myself a nice meal, though.
Anyway, this all changed in 2010, and I embraced the Winter holiday in full force (albeit at the very last minute!). Again, I had just moved, this time into my boyfriend's house, and just one month before Christmas. We were still in the throes of creating order and space in a house that was now bulging at the seams with our combined "necessities." Putting some festive lights in the windows was easy enough, and about a week before Christmas, we finally got a tree, decorated it, and hung our stockings by the 50" plasma with care. With my boyfriend's family being local, and my own brother and sister-in-law now living in town, there was no escaping the standard flurry of traditions, meals, gift-giving, drinking, more meals, carol-singing, more gifts, and so on. Game on, Christmas! I was ready to re-enter the world of Jack Frost and sleigh bells after my long hiatus.
Christmas Eve was a fun day of festivities with my boyfriend's family, and after a mandatory gift exchange with that group on Christmas day, we rushed home to prepare for a dinner at our house with my brother and his wife. The meal was great, and the wine was flowing as we talked and laughed into the evening. At some point, we were discussing a next door neighbor, and decided we should invite her over. We called, and a house-sitter answered the phone. In the spirit of Christmas, we invited this complete stranger to come on over for a glass of wine, and to our surprise, 3 complete strangers were at our door within moments. They proved to be very pleasant company, and jumped right into conversations and more laughter with us.
Then it happened. The cat decided to walk across the short wall overlooking our stairwell, and rather than completing its journey, he stopped, and sat.
On a candle. A lit candle. Seriously... the cat sat right on the flame of a lit candle, but I was the only one in the room to observe this action. Lost for words, I started stuttering incoherent syllables and waving my hands around in panic. Finally, my brother who was standing nearest the cat became aware of the smoke rising from the creature, and sort of ushered him off the candle-filled perch, and patted him down a bit, somehow putting out the smoldering fur.
Then the smell hit. It filled the room with a choking offensiveness, eliciting scrunched up facial expressions of horror, and unadulterated groans of displeasure. In short order, the cat was toweled off to remove the singed fur (he turned out to be completely unharmed, aside from the loss of fur on his hind-quarters and tail), the room was sprayed with air freshener, and scented candles were lit. Before long, everything was back to normal, and eventually the guests made their exit, and Christmas was over.
This past Christmas of 2010, while filled with many fond and lasting memories, will certainly be remembered most for one particular event. This was The Christmas When The Cat Caught On Fire.
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