6:45 am. I wake and stumble through the hallway towards the bathroom. Suddenly I notice that dozens of shiny ornaments are littering the floor. They lead into the front-room up to a fallen Christmas tree. Gingerly, I step over the gold and red baubles and peer behind the tree where a furry , orange shape crouches.
“Pete, what did you do?” I say in a scolding tone.
His large golden eyes gaze up at me, laden with guilt. Yet I know instinctively that this wasn’t a solo job. My eyes dart around the living room, scanning for the younger grey cat. The one who tried to climb the tree minutes after it was put up. He was nowhere in sight, further confirming the fact that he fled the scene once the tree came crashing down, leaving his unfortunate accomplice behind.