That Time of Year

In our house, mom shops for stuff for this Christmas the humans celebrate, pretty much all year. But, around this time, she gets kind of nervous about having just the right gift. She has to ship stuff, she says, and she wants it to be on time. So, she makes lists and lists and spends a lot of time looking in catalogues. She says that, in spite of the name, they don't sell cats. She does a lot of shopping via her computer, that box in the office that takes up a lot of her times when she's home. When the stuff she orders gets delivered, that can be kind of scary because there will be footsteps on the front porch and the guy who wears brown usually rings the doorbell, even if mom's not home. That scares us.

But you know what is awesome about that? Boxes.

Lots and lots of boxes. They are in all shapes and sizes, but there's usually one that's just my size.

Mom keeps boxes around for us for awhile.

The one I'm in came last week. Our extra toys are in another. Mija likes the one on the left. That box is at least 3 years old, but Mija loves to lie in it so mom won't get rid of it. She'll use some of our boxes to pack stuff and ship it out. That's kind of traumatic. I mean, I just get a box the way I like it...

and she uses it to send presents to people. Or then, because I have decided I don't want to sit in a box anymore, she'll "recycle it". It is so upsetting to watch her fold it up and walk it out to the recycling can.

I claimed it. She says we get too many and there's no room to walk through the living room for all the boxes. But then something else gets delivered and I have a new box to investigate.

Honestly, can't a girl take a bath without the photos?

See you next week.

Pilchard