It’s the day before Christmas,
and all through the house
we critters are rampaging
as we wail on the mouse,
or the straw or the catnip
or the laser with glee,
which most of us play with,
while Fiona does flee.
There’s Baggins and Booger
And Boo and old Dali,
Sabella and Princess,
and humans and folly,
who scatter before
this red vacuum cleaner
that hisses and spits
in a loud, foul demeaner
“Rest not, ye sad trollops,
lest here ye be seen!
This house is a mess!
This house must be cleaned!”
To corners we scatter
to plan our defenses,
to marshall our forces
and gather our senses
We quiver and quake
and shudder in fear,
that here, on all days,
the red thing comes near
one to another we
each make this vow,
to repel this invader,
and to do it right now
Sabella leaps forth to
lay siege and give battle,
but falters before the
machine’s angry rattle
Boo then steps up,
And glares to and for,
but retreats, still thinking,
it’s worked once before
Booger engages
Though he doesn’t know why,
But he gaves it a good slap
As he hurries on by.
This leaves poor Baggins
considering discretion,
In the end, might be
The best course of action.
Together we flee from
Our ill-timed engagement,
Retreating upstairs
Where Fiona has went
We find her unhappy
And she boxes our ears
For daring to fail her
For daring to come near
While below the machine rumbles
and grumbles and spits
and calls out our names;
“I know where you’re at!”
We hear it approach
The foot of the stairs.
And we cling close together
And almost despair,
But just as we tremble
And surrendered all hope
The doorbell does ring
A fine, singing note
Daring the red demon to
The kitchen to fight.
And we dare to start to hoping
that it might be alright.
Then to our surprise the
machine coughes and sputteres.
The house does fall silent,
Not a word does it utter.
We gather together at
the top of the stairs
Wondering what trickery
will befall us down there
When a loud, clear voice,
cries out, quite near,
“Indy! Indy! Indy!”
Our brother is here!
So we creep down the stairs
And into the den,
where the machine sits waiting,
but is lifeless and thin,
Mother picks it up
And puts the thing away.
Our glorious battle will
resume another day.
For now there is our Indy
So sweet and unaware
We circle around him
To show him we care
A Christmas tradition
We all know and love
To corner our dear brother
And show him he’s loved
To ask him to join us
To aid in our fight for
The merriment of Christmas
And a fun, play-filled night
Before joining the tall ones
In the den for a snooze
Or a snippet of catnip
To sing Sabella’s blues
We’ll gather together
Our family and friends
And wait for Father Christmas
to visit us when
Our old sister follows
To curl up by the couch
At the feet of the Tall Ones
Who won’t let her out
So there we will gather
Where everything’s right,
And when Dali is sleeping
We’ll have the good night
Full of light, love and wonder
And treats as we please.
At last it is Christmas.
At last there is peace.
Somewhere in the dark
The red machine slumbers
But those fears are for tomorrow
Tonight we remember
It’s the day before Christmas,
and all through the house
us critters will rampage
and wail on the mouse,
or the straw or the catnip
or the laser with glee,
which most of us play with,
And Fiona will flee…
Merry Christmas to all our favorite critters!
Written Dec 24 2008
