Blessed Are the Animials Who Will Screw Up Your Christmas...

Jingle, The Naughty Xmas Cat

Twas the week before Christmas

And all through the house

Not a bassett was stirring

Of course, neither was my spouse.



The stockings were hung by the chimney with care

In hopes that (if I ever got my shopping done)

St. Nicholas would be there.



And I with my laptop

Secure on my lap

Had no ideas to write with

Not even a scrap.



When all of the sudden I heard such a clatter

I felt relieved to have an excuse to be rid of the matter.



The kids had not put away the cookies

And even left some, which was weird

And the pug looked really guilty

With smeared Oreos in her beard.



The black cat named Jingle (yes, that's his real name)

Threw up on the floor

And my stuffed Kris Kringle

Was torn up by the door.



My husband was snoring - not a care in the world

As I got out the Spot Bot to clean up where the cat (and soon after, dog) hurled (#!$%#!!!)



And what to my wondering eyes should appear

But a chewed up miniature toy sleigh

with only five (gulp!) reindeer.



I spent the night cleaning

Instead of writing a word

And if you were my pets

Many not-very-Christmasy expletives you heard.



The kids were all snuggled up safe in their beds

While visions of Guitar Hero III danced in their heads.



After yelling at the cat and chastising the dog

I sat back down to my laptop to write this here blog.



With so much to do

And so much more to clean

It would take a military (and possibly, verrrrrry bloody) coup

To make Christmas keen.



I decided instead to compose my Christmas list

Just in case Santa

Was reading all this.



My Dearest, Darling Santa

Only one thing I ask

For George Clooney as my butler

Cleaning not being his only task ;)



Upon composing my list

I went up to bed

With visions of Georgie (that's what I'd call him) in a g-string (sigh!)

Cleaning toilets (that would be soooo hot!). . .in my head.



*<; { > Happy Holidays! May Santa bring you what you REALLY want.



The Assassin