From the diary of Frank the cat:


Day one, 9:00 a.m.

There’s a strange visitor sitting on the shelf in the living room. He’s smaller than the human children and wears ridiculous red clothing that resembles something I had to wear for a holiday photo one year. I have no idea where he came from or when he arrived, but no one bothered to inform me about any of it. Like I should be surprised. They never tell me anything important. Like that one time they brought home the woman they called “Aunt Bernice,” who insisted on kissing me on the mouth. It was beyond annoying, but I felt better once I decided to start licking my rear when I saw her coming my way.

But back to the interloper. Why does he get shelf-sitting privileges when I don’t even get to set foot on the coffee table? He must be pretty important — more important than me, obviously. And he has the creepiest smile, like he knows a secret and he’s not telling. Rude! His eyes are unnaturally round and follow my every move. As if they couldn’t more unsettling, his eyeballs are locked to the side, like he’s always looking out of the corner of his eyes. What’s up with that? I know one thing: I don’t trust him. Not one bit. Plus, his cheeks are always rosy. I’m pretty sure he has a drinking problem.

Day one, 6:00 p.m.

I just heard the human adults tell the children the intruder sitting on the shelf is an “elf” and he’s from somewhere called the North Pole. He was sent by a guy named Santa. He’s supposed to keep a close eye on all of us and report back to Santa on whether we’ve been naughty or nice. Apparently this determines who receives gifts on Christmas morning. This all sounds very fishy to me, and maybe even illegal. Is Santa some kind of mafia boss? Why does he need to send spies? This is all very worrisome. I suddenly don’t feel comfortable in my own home.

The elf must go. What if he sees me licking pans in the sink? What if he decides my cup-tipping habit is “naughty”? His presence is way too risky. I have to find a way to get rid of that spy. An empty stocking for Frank is simply not an option.

[Check back tomorrow for the second part of this Catster holiday special.]

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