I put up my Christmas tree this week.
Well—I attempted to put up my Christmas tree.
What actually happened was a battle of strategy, willpower, and feline determination that I absolutely did not win.
You’d think after all these years I’d learn, but no. Every November I step into the ring like some wide-eyed optimist thinking, This time will be different. And every year Halo—my fluffy, whiskered gremlin—reminds me who the real power is in this household.
It started the moment I pulled the tree box out of the closet. Before I even cracked the lid, Halo materialized like a tiny, judgmental forest spirit. Eyes wide. Tail twitching. Already plotting.
And then—like clockwork—she dove inside the box.
So there I was, wrestling a half-assembled tree while Halo sprawled across the branches like she was auditioning for a feline production of The Lion King. Every time I needed a piece, she refused to give it up, gripping it like a dragon hoarding treasure. I swear she had the smug face going. You know the one.
Once I finally extracted the middle section (and my dignity), Halo flopped dramatically under the tree—before the base was even locked in—blinked up at me, and clearly decided this yearly ritual was created purely for her comfort and entertainment.
As I attached lights, she attacked them.
As I fluffed branches, she climbed them.
As I hung ornaments, she stole them.
I’m talking full-on, no-regrets theft. She pranced away with a red ball in her mouth like she’d just executed the greatest jewel heist in Canadian history. She doesn’t even hide them. She rolls them into the middle of the floor and stares at me like, Display them properly, human.
At one point, she tried to smack the star out of my hand.
So yes… the tree is up.
Yes… it leans slightly to the left.
Yes… Halo has claimed the entire underside as her winter palace, complete with stolen ornaments forming some sort of circle-of-power shrine she refuses to let me dismantle.
And honestly?
She looks so pleased with herself that I can’t even be mad.
If I’m being real, the holidays wouldn’t feel the same without Halo’s annual takeover. The tree may be crooked, half the ornaments may be missing, and the lights may flicker in fear, but the chaos makes it ours.
And if you ask Halo?
She’ll tell you the tree looks perfect.
Because she designed it.
Let me know—does your pet also believe Christmas trees are personal playgrounds or is it just mine staging a soft coup every December?
Warm holiday hugs (and cat hair),
Tia
