Epiphany makes me sad

In our home we observe the Twelve Days of Christmas. We don't consider the Christmas season to be over until the end of Twelfth Night.

When Twelfth Night falls on a Friday or Saturday we have a party and invite friends over. By that time the drama and angst of the Holiday season is over and everyone is relaxed, feeling happy and ready to have fun. I love Twelfth Night.

But in our house Christmas really starts with the arrival of the first Spangly Christmas Poo.

That really does demand explanation. A certain white cat likes to sit and stare at the Christmas Tree. It's not that he is aesthetically minded or that he sees an ornament with feathers twitching enticingly in the breeze. It's not that he is a reincarnated druid loving the smell of the tree and performing silent worship. It's not even that he wants to chase his sister around and through the tree and drink the tree water.

You see, he is a tinsel eater.

He loves to gobble up indigestible lengths of something or other. Perversely, he won't eat fresh chicken or fish or lamb that his sister, the evil wench, is very keen on. Nothing that is actually food. There was the Twinings Tea wrapper phase and the dental floss phase. But my favorite is the tinsel.

That's why cleaning the litter box in mid December is a task filled with excitement and expectation, and why Epiphany makes me sad.