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‘Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the house
All the ovens were glowing, even the Westinghouse;
The mixers were all fully filled with care,
In hopes that no eggshells would land there;
The pets were both nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of squirrels danced in their heads;
And Alison in her apron, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a short baking nap,
When on the counter there arose such a clatter,
Rose sprang from her bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the kitchen she flew like a flash,
Pushed open the door and ran in with a crash.
The pan on the edge of the freshly rolled dough,
Gave a wafting aroma of butter softened just so,
When what to her waggling tail did appear,
But a stripped ginger cat began to sneer,
With plush white paws so lively and quick,
She knew in a moment he was about to lick.
More rapid than rabbits out his tongue came,
And he cried, and shouted, and meowed in great pain,
“Meow, Meowww! Mew, meow! Mer-roow-ooow!”
His cries were all lies as he stared with great woe!
For the humans were stirring! The ovens did call!
The cookies were ready! One pan filled with balls!
As Alison checked them he heaved a great sigh,
When had he gotten up so high!
Luckily one of them stooped to change his world view
With an armful of stripes she felt deja vu—
And then in a twirling, he landed with an ooph
Rose decided this needed a clear woof.
As the butter was melting, and the coconut browned,
The flour was poured out by the pound.
The counters were covered in endless containers,
The cookies all stacked in numerous layers;
A cat still remained hopeful sprawled on his back,
And he squeaked like a mouse with hope of a snack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his whiskers, how merry!
His cheeks were like pillows, his nose like a berry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the fluff on his chin was as white as the snow;
The pink of his tongue he held tight in his mouth,
And the teeth, they revealed parts further south;
He had a chubby face and a giant round belly
That shook when he moved, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was ginger and orange, a right snuggly old cat,
And they laughed when they saw him, in spite of that;
A flick of his tail and a twist of his head
Soon gave them to know they had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his bowl,
And crunched all the pieces; until he created a hole,
And splaying his paws aside of his chest,
He gave a new cry to signal his great distress;
He waited as a human approached with a whistle,
And circled around his perch his tail all abristle.
As they gave his dish full of kibble a stir—
His giant striped chest let out a grateful purr!