On Christmas morning when we went outside to do our business there were two dozen turkeys parading across the backyard. The only sound Pocket and I made was one of disgust. Just like turkeys. They had appeared early.
Please indulge me while I backtrack. The past four Christmas seasons our parents have left us alone on the 23rd, 24th and 25th. Please don’t judge them unkindly. That is our job.
Pocket and I had been planning Christmas for two weeks. It began with making peace with the turkeys. Then we conspired with the squirrels and birds. The plan was set. One hour after our parents left the first annual River Song and Pocket wild animal Christmas party would begin.
Parents are always distracted on Christmas. They leave the house with packages, boxes, and bags. They leave with casseroles, bottles, and desserts. They are in a hurry, and their hands are full. It was easy for me to slip a paw in the jam to keep them from turning the deadbolt. Once they departed, I used my supersonic leaping power to open the door.
Pocket and I quickly went to her kitty condo where we had stored bags of nuts, berries, bird food, grass, water, and bowls. (No kibble made of turkey, I had learned my lesson). We set the food out on the table and then opened the door to allow the turkeys, squirrels, chipmunks, birds, and one cat who claimed to be feral but smelled like alpine kitty litter into our home.
Within an hour the house was a complete mess. Turkeys may be good to eat, but they don’t eat well. They acted like a gaggle of petulant infants tossing more food on the floor then they swallowed. The squirrels began hoarding nuts. When Pocket confronted them, they said they had to make the feast last all winter. How ungrateful. The birds were kind, but we sadly discovered that getting a bird to poop on a pad was impossible.
A squirrel and a turkey got in a fight over a berry. The squirrel ran up a curtain ripping it, and the wild turkey tried to fly after it and went through the window. Like parents of a student entering his senior year, we quickly discovered we had lost control of the party.
Even though we were smaller than the turkeys they are not known for their bravery and my sister, and I chased them, and the other critters out the door then stopped to look at our tattered house. “Boy are you in trouble,” I said to Pocket.
Suddenly a bright light appeared over us, and Angel Foley floated down. “You are lucky you had this foolish party today,” Foley said. “No Angel can refuse a request on Christmas.” We sat looking at her while she fluttered impatiently above us. “One of you has to ask me to clean the house!” she shouted. Both of us did so, quickly. A portal opened, and her minions flew inside. They cleaned the table, counters, and floors then replaced the curtains making our abode look as spotless as it was when my parents left. Of course, we had to endure a long reprimand from our sister, but we acted chagrined as a show of gratitude.
We heard the car door shut. Our parents had returned. Foley hurried off (her getting caught would be a major rule violation) just before our parents entered. We excitedly greeted them at the door, celebrating their return and us having gotten away with our ill-conceived venture.
Mommy went into the bathroom and came out holding a feather. “Where did this come from?” she asked us.
We both ran into Pocket’s kitty condo to hide.
We learned a hard lesson this Christmas.
If you are going to have a turkey over for the holidays, it is better to eat it than to feed them.