We made it twenty four whole hours before Peppa got around to taking up her December home in the branches of the Christmas tree.
She took a couple of baubles off yesterday, because she’s very fussy when it comes to the design and presentation of a tree, but today she’s decided to climb into it.
And, in an upgraded move from anything she attempted last year, has made it about two feet higher up the tree than her starting position. Which means that next year when we assemble the tree there will be a whole new row of branches which need bending back to horizontal before we can decorate it.
The thing I understand the least about the tree-climbing of said cat, is that when she’s outside she couldn’t give a fig about any of the trees in the surrounding area. She doesn’t climb any of them, she occasionally will head to the roof of the shed, but otherwise she just mooches around on ground level (or sometimes tops of bin level).
But when you erect a tall plastic tree in your front room, suddenly it’s tree-climbing time. Something in her primal brain awakens and she’s like, “Ah, a tree. I must climb this.” What’s that all about? Unless, and this is a stretch, in times of yore before cats were domesticated, whatever wild ancestors lived at the end of the familial tree did a lot of their hunting and climbing in highly decorated foliage.
It seems unlikely.
But then, cats were popular in Egypt. We know this because they feature in hieroglyphs and mummified cats have been found in burial tombs. Egypt, apparently, was once a green and fertile land. And now it’s a desert.
And why? Because while the Egyptians really loved the cat, they hated that they’d be all up in the trees if they hung up, say, a banner wishing Tutankhamun all the best on his coronation or whatever. So they got rid of them all.
And now, that comes flooding back to house cats when we put up Christmas trees.
Or it could just be that because it’s not a cat toy bought specifically for her she is incredibly interested in it.