This cat-astrophe started years ago when my sister bought the fur-purrs a set of gnome catnip toys for Christmas. It was a very loved gift, and they still play with them to this day, but what purr-sued in the coming years could not have been foreseen.
I decorate with Christmas gnomes, and the toys resemble my holiday décor a little too well. Now, every day I come home to gnome bodies scattered across my living room. This has become JZ’s favorite holiday pastime next to the typical tree ornament swatting.
I’ve tried to explain that my gnomes are not toys, but all I get is a blank stare while he defiantly brushes the gnome guts off his face using the little Christmas tree another gnome is holding. I know it’s his very clear way of telling me my feelings don’t meowter.
I’ve considered therapy, but I don’t think it will help me. I think I just have to accept the devastation, day in and day out until I can safely pack away the survivors for next year.
Pray for me,
LM