Every year, my family follows a strict "No Peeking" policy.
We hide the gifts, we use heavy-duty wrapping paper, and we certainly don’t open anything until Christmas morning.
However, three years ago, our tabby cat, Oliver, decided he was the new Head of Quality Control.
It was December 23rd. I had spent four hours perfectly wrapping a high-end, organic smoked salmon gift basket for my aunt.
I tucked it deep under the tree, surrounded by a fortress of heavy boxes.
At 3:00 AM, I heard a sound like a paper shredder losing a fight with a lawnmower.
I stumbled into the living room, expecting a burglar. Instead, I found Oliver sitting in a sea of green-and-gold confetti.
Oliver hadn't just "opened" the gift. He had performed a surgical extraction.
The Wrapping: Completely pulverized.
The Box: Systematically chewed through at the corners.
The Salmon: Gone. Well, the vacuum-sealed packaging was still there, but it looked like it had been through a woodchipper.
The funniest part wasn't the theft; it was the cover-up. When I turned on the light, Oliver didn't run. He didn't even look guilty.
He simply walked over to a nearby decorative reindeer, knocked it over, and then looked at me as if to say, "I’m glad you’re here. This reindeer has been causing trouble all night."
He then proceeded to spend the rest of the night "guarding" the shredded remains of the salmon, occasionally letting out a satisfied, fishy-smelling burp.
If you have a cat, you don't own Christmas decorations or gifts—you are merely "renting" the space from a small, furry landlord who has very specific tastes in hors d'oeuvres.
Pro Tip for Blog Readers: If you're gifting anything edible this year, put it in a Tupperware container, then a safe, then a locked room. Even then? The cat will find a way.
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