Oh, “Christmas wrapping”! What a dream when you arrive in our home! The glorious paper! The ribbons and bows! The tissue paper! The temporary housing provided by boxes! Once a year you show up in my life, taunting me from beneath the tree, covering the boring objects that humans seem to hanker for. I wait for weeks, crouched beside you, for that magnificent morning when the foolish humans rip you away from their worthless prizes and carelessly toss you to the floor, where we meet in a beautiful riot of crunching and crinkling.
I tear at you with my paws. I roll around on you, mesmerized by your smooth yet soft yet crumply texture. When the humans scrunch you into balls and toss you across the room, I give chase, giddy with excitement. And when they attempt to “clean up” by sweeping you away like so much garbage, I sit on you and refuse to move. For I know that you, dear paper, are the true prize. You are an amusement park of art, a Christmas miracle, a holiday bounty beyond the wildest of dreams!
I cannot save you, for I am no match for a giant who can simply reach out a hand and lift my entire body into the air as easily as they lift those cozy laundry baskets filled with clean, warm towels before I get a chance to bless those linens by squirming about in their nest, leaving behind mounds of luxurious hair. But all is not lost! After you’ve been stuffed into trash bags and whisked away, there are still the ribbons and bows, waiting to be torn to shreds and proudly carried about. They’re a bit like string, only much fancier, and much easier to pulverize. Occasionally, if a bow is fancy enough, I’ll allow it to be placed gently on my head, a suitable crown for a king. And when the crown falls off, I will shred it with my claws or attempt to eat it, until it is taken away for safety purposes. Farewell, dear bow! I shall miss your decorative appeal and waxy aftertaste!