Dear Diary,
It’s almost Christmas, and apparently, that means humans lose their minds. There’s a tree in the living room. INSIDE. I sniffed it, and it smells like outside, but nope—inside tree. And it’s covered in shiny dangly things that I’m not allowed to chew. (Why even put them there then?!)
The cats think this tree is their personal jungle gym. Bellatrix climbed halfway up and knocked off three shiny balls. I tried to help by eating one. Got yelled at. Rude.
Then there are these boxes under the tree. I’m told they’re “presents.” I’m 99% sure they’re snacks wrapped in paper. I licked one just to check. Still got yelled at. Double rude.
Oh, and the Santa hat? Yeah, apparently, I’m “festive.” I look like a jolly elf with a grumpy face. The cats don’t have hats. They just sit there judging me like furry little Scrooges. If Santa sees this, he better bring me extra treats for putting up with this humiliation.
Anyway, if the big guy in red really comes down the chimney, I’m barking first and asking questions later. No one steals my snacks. Merry Christmas, Diary. Wish me luck.
—Reggie 🎅🐾