Christmas Eve: Remove turkey from freezer. Herd cat out of way with foot as you place turkey to defrost in oven – the only catproof place in the house. Leave note on oven in large capital letters reminding family DON’T TURN OVEN ON.
Christmas Day: Remove defrosted turkey from oven. Remove cat from kitchen counter. Take turkey out of packaging and prepare. Have to remove cat from counter so many times it’s easier just to shut the damn creature in another room. Finish preparing turkey to the tune of wailing sounds akin to someone being murdered.
Get turkey back into oven. Let cat back in, find it has begun a tunnel through the kitchen door in the meantime. Sweep up wood shavings. Remember you didn’t put turkey packaging in bin. Remove cat from plastic packaging, where it is suffocating in a happy way amongst turkey juices.
Christmas Day, 2 hours later: Start to prepare potatoes, vegetables, and other accompaniments. Cat thinks all these things might be of interest. Remove cat from various pots and pans. Give it a sprout to eat. Cat rolls it around floor instead. Oh well, at least it’s distracted.
Remove turkey briefly from oven to do final seasoning. Cat crosses kitchen in 0.0001 seconds and sticks head in roasting tin. Remove cat, check for hairs on turkey, return turkey to oven.
Christmas Day, 1 hour later: Rope in family to set table while doing finishing touches to cooking. Laugh maniacally at family’s efforts to lay out table with cat helping.
Serve up dinner to hungry family. Pretend not to notice that everyone is feeding cat bits of turkey under the table.
Finish dinner. Roll now very fat and comatose cat into its basket. Clear up, wash up, and join cat in happy stuffed-ness.
Love from Karen, her long-suffering hubby and her four naughty cats. xx