The Pandora Tree

Pandora is doing her darndest to do a daily de-nude of the Christmas Tree, which is now installed in the newly minimalistic living room. In a cunning plan to thwart her de-nuding efforts, I have covered the tree with tinkly sleigh bells, which act like a festive alarm if the kitten goes anywhere near them. Unfortunately, in an equally cunning double bluff, it is these very jingle bells that she finds the most attractive.

Now last year, when Pandora was merely a kitten of 8 months old, if she wanted something from the Christmas Tree she would fling herself at it with wild abandon, and execute a totally brazen grab and run assault, with not an ounce of finesse. But then that's youngsters for you.

But this year, now she is a teen kitten of 20 months old, she has develop a certain feline wile. Or guile.

(I have to say at this moment that I had a brain-dead moment about how to spell 'wile' so I asked Andy, who confirmed my w...i...l...e suspicions. Unfortunately, I chose to enhance my question with a gesture - I gesture a lot when I am talking - and now Heather and Andy are taking the very unseasonal mick out of me because they said I looked like a squid.)

Anyway, ignoring the lower life forms in the room, back to the wily kitten. She now sits on the back of the sofa just out of swiping distance of the tree. And then she does a series of extravagant padding motions a la 'I'm going to settle down now for sleepy-bye-byes.' But, and here is the cunning wile part, she gradually pads her way towards the tree and then stretches out her paw in a sleepy yawny kind of way and hey presto!! 'Oh look, I have accidentally got a jingle bell stuck to my paw; I shall now run off to the kitchen with it and bat it around until it disappears 'neath the freezer, and you won't find it until, oh, this time next year when you pull the freezer out to defrost it for Christmas goodies.'

And then she might add,' And I'll shove half a dozen biros and some dried pasta shapes under there as well.'

So I am attempting to train Pandora to stay away from the tree, mainly for the good of her own health in that I won't feel so murderous towards her if she keeps her distance.

My training involves:
1) shouting 'Pandora! Leave that b****y tree alone before I throttle you!'
2) aiming cushions in her direction with the aim of startling her away from the tree and not into it, whereby she looks at me with glee and says, 'Ha! That idea backfired, didn't it?'
3) saying plaintively, 'Andeeeeeeeeey, can you make Pandora move away from the tree pleeeeeeeezeeeeeeeeeeeeeee??????????????'
4) shutting the living room door so she can't get at the tree at all, whereby she rewards me by scratching the paint off the newly decorated door
5) reasoning with her by saying, 'Pandora, you are not a teeny kitten any more. You are a grown, sensible puss cat, like Tybalt and Phoebe. If Tybalt and Phoebe can leave the tree alone, so can you. To wit she replies, 'That's only because Phoebe is too old to hoist herself into the tree, and Tybalt does de-nude the tree, only he's very good at re-decorating it before you notice his wanton act of vandalism.'
6) sighing loudly, and saying in a resigned voice - 'Well, don't come running to me if you eat too many pine needles and end up perforating your oesophagus.'

Blimey, I hope she's calmed down for next Christmas. And don't even get me started on the baby who's worked out how to lift the carpet bar between the living room and the hall, and prefers this activity to playing with the myraid of toys I've bought her.