Simba, the Mini-Kitty tales

I am what Auntie calls “a nervous Nelly.” I like our house because it is usually quiet and pleasant. This time every year bothers me. This last Thanksgiving holiday had Momma Kat and Daddy Steve’s children, their significant others here, and the mini-terror (oops, granddaughter).

We have had a crisis in the family. Daddy Steve, who spent time in the hospital last year, went back to the hospital last week. He is very sick. He came home yesterday, but he is really worried because the doctors still don’t have a clue what is causing him to be so sick.

I worried about him. Momma Kat was worried, too. She spent almost every night at the hospital. It was a good thing I had Auntie and Brother “B” to take care of me. Auntie said she knew I was concerned when they were gone because I kept looking for them.

It’s a couple of weeks before Christmas. How do I know this, you might ask? It is because the plastic thing that Momma Kat calls a Christmas tree has shown up in our living room again. I think she set it up to make Daddy Steve feel better.

It is going to be, what I consider, the craziest time of the year in this household. There will be packages and people coming and going for the next little while. There will be a lot of noise culminating in the New Year’s Eve celebration. If anyone wants to know where I will be, I will be under Auntie’s bed. I always feel safe there.