‘Twas the night before Cat-mas and all through MY house,
\nNot a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…(I ate it).
\nMy kitty stocking was hung by the cat door with care,
\nIn hopes that Santa Claws soon would be there;
\nThe humans were nestled all snug in their beds,
\nWhile we cats in the darkness danced on their heads;
\nBig Owner in his “sleepy’s”, and me his loyal cat,
\nHad just settled down for a long winter’s nap,
\nWhen out in the ‘hood there arose such a clatter,
\nI sprang to four paws to see what was the matter.
\nAway to the window I flew like a flash,
\nEating curtains and shades (I threw up the sash).
\nThe street lamp outside shined eerily below,
\nMaybe two cats fighting? Paw to paw, blow-by-blow?
\nNo, wait! What my sharp kitty eyes should detect,
\nBut a miniature cat box, and that Devonshire Rex.
\nA little old driver, all hairy with paws,
\nI knew in an instant it must be Santa Claws.
\nMore rapid than hairballs his coursers they came,
\nAnd he howled, he meowed, he called them by name;
\n“Now, BOMBAY! now, BIRMAN! RAGDOLL and BURMESE!
\nOn, PIXIE-BOB! on KORAT! on, PERSIAN and SIAMESE!
\nTo the top of the fence! To the top of the tree!
\nMy felines are awaiting, they are all purring!”
\nAs dry heaves that before the wild furballs fly,
\nWhen he meets with an obstacle, they jump to the sky,
\nSo over my shingles the kitties they flew,
\nWith the carriage full of cat morsels, and Santa Claws too.
\nWith a turn of my ear, I heard on the roofpole
\nThe scratching and clawing of each kitty’s sole.
\nI drew in my head, and was spinning around,
\nWhen through the cat door Santa Claws did abound.
\nA long hair in fur, of course, from head to foot,
\nAnd his hairs were all shiny, well coiffured, nicely put.
\nA bundle of cat toys he had flung on his back,
\nYou’d swear he was pedigree just him with his pack.
\nHis eyes — how they twinkled! His whiskers how bold!
\nHis cheek hairs so soft, his nose…oh, how cold!
\nHe shed not a hair, each strand in its place
\nThe most famous of all of the proud feline race.
\nThe stump of some cat nip he held tight in his teeth,
\nIts aroma encircling his head like a wreath;
\nAn imposing cat with the biggest belly in history,
\nThat shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of Friskies.
\nA grimalkin of breed, a right jolly old cat!
\nDid I say grimalkin, how could I think that!
\nA twitch of the whisker and a twist of his head,
\nSoon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
\nHe mewed not a sound, but went straight to his work,
\nFilled my stockings with kitty treats; then turned with a jerk,
\nAnd laying a talon aside of his nose,
\nAfter giving a nod, out the cat door he goes;
\nHe sprang to his cat box, to his team gave “MEOW!”
\nAnd away they all flew, like the wind they did howl.
\nBut I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
\n“MEOWY CAT-MAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!”<\/p>\n