Most cats I’ve known love Christmas. There are boxes, decorations to bat around, paper to roll in, gifts to chew open, and lots of holiday food. There is a strong synergy of things they love in one place at one time.
Playing catch with little balls hung on the tree, and of course, the tree itself helps make a drab house a cat wonderland. What mighty jungle cat doesn’t like dashing out and snagging a passing ankle? Such acts of daring prove that puissance is actually spelled “puss-ence.”
It’s the fumble-fingered humans that make life difficult. They detach claws from ball ornaments that you’ve been playing with. Then, when you bat an ornament out into the living room, they don’t understand that it’s not like playing catch with the dog; picking it up and placing it higher on the tree is not the game’s objective.
Still, they bring your tree in at Christmas, place the toys on it, and all the nice boxes and wrapping paper under it.
Sigh, humans. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them!