T'was The Night Before Catmas . . .

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'Twas the night before Catmas
When all through the house
Not an animal was stirring,
Not even the mouse.

The kitties were snuggled
And tucked in their beds,
While visions of cat goodies
Danced in their heads.

Their stockings were hung
By the cat bowls with care,
In hope that Father Catmas
Soon would be there.

Out on the rooftop
There arose such a hissing,
I knew Father Catmas
Was having trouble parking.

I jumped on the couch,
Stuck my nose to the curtain.
"Here he is!", I purred
"It is him, I'm certain."

What to my deep blue eyes
Should appear,
But Father Catmas himself
In his Catsled gear.

He purred and he purred,
But through the kitty door he went,
Then stopped and smelled the air
As he picked up a scent.

The cat cookies we left him
Were by the back door.
The kitties had baked them
Not an hour before.

He went about his work
With never a sigh,
Filling the stockings
With toys piled high.

He waved at me
With his mighty paw.
Although I was hiding,
'Twas my little nose he saw.

Out the kitty door he went
In oh such a rush,
Jumped on his catsled
And yelled out, "MUSH!"

The eight Maine Coon cat team
Were raring to go.
They hated 'stand stay',
Especially in the snow.

I could hear him hissing
As he disappeared that night,
"Merry Catmas to all!
OK team, turn rrrrright!"


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