December 22 ~ Hungrry
in
"Temptations"
Szia! Welcome! I'm Hungary Cat! I may be prone to chasing my stripy tail when it's wiggling suspiciously, but I like to call myself a mature kitty, a sane kitty… for the most part.
It is one thing for a cat to admit she chases her tail, but I'll also take time to specify that I do it in private, away from any prying eyes or twitching whiskers. Occasionally, my human sees the habit, and then I have to get my tail scrubbed up and endure the cone around my neck for a week. Well, the cone doesn't prevent me from tearing up wrapping paper and tangling up the yarn scraps Austria Cat drags all over the house until they're perfect little screwballs of fiber. But the tail is temptation, and I'm mortified when I can't play with it.
I don't have the cone on this week. I haven't had it on all month, actually. I have to look my best for Christmas, which means devilish temptations are cursed and banished from my mind. My human scrutinizes my every tail-lick to make sure I'm not biting it. I like the attention she gives. But if she stares too long, I stare back, and that usually makes her turn back to her computer.
My house does not have a Christmas tree. It's nearly Christmas, and the corner of the tiny living room — an eyesore because the couch could easily be shoved over to close it — is all bare and covered in scuff marks over the green-and-white wallpaper. I know not every cat has a Christmas tree to sniff and eat and climb, but I should have one.
It's the tradition here. Children might put out their shoes for Mikulás on December 6th, but a Hungarian household must be completely devoid of Christmas until the very night before. Not everyone respects this rule, but in my house it means we can't fill that irritating hole with a tree until it's December 24th.
Earlier tonight, my human left her computer on, and I treated myself to pictures of Prussia Cat's tinsel collar and France Cat's candle tree and Italy Cat's… okay, Italy Cat doesn't have a tree simply because his nativity scene is something out of a hoarder exposé, but my bare corner has no excuse! I want that fir smell! Those scratchy needles! Little baubles and ornaments to knock around and carry off in my mouth! Oh, my tail is wiggling again! That's at least something I can control, if I catch it and keep in in place!
"No, sweetie cat! Don't bite your tail again!" My human yelps, scooping me up in her arms and squishing me tight against her chest. I press my head against her and let out a mournful meow.
"You know the tradition. It's not Christmas yet," my human says. She always knows just what I'm thinking. "But, I do have a surprise for you. Let's go see what it is."
She carries me through the tight kitchen to the quaint dining room and plops me in a teal-cushioned chair whose footrest has popped out of one wooden socket. Then she sits at the other creaky chair. From her pocket, she pulls out a red wad of tissue paper. My ears perk at a rattling sound from within. My paws fly out, and I try to nab the thing from her, but she's quick to unwrap it for me.
It's a little silver bell. When she holds it up, it jingles and flashes in the cozy lamplight. Both of my paws swipe at the pretty thing, but my human smirks and pulls it just out of reach.
"Will you occupy yourself if I give you this bell? It's the only Christmas I can allow until we get the tree up on Thursday."
My head pops up and I sniff the bell. Her manicured fingers wiggle it around, and my eyes can't help but follow, catching every glint of silver and rattling chime.
She then holds my muzzle up with her knuckles while stringing the bell's top loop with some ribbon and tying it fast around my neck. I purr and rub my whole face over her hands. A Christmas collar just like Prussia Cat! And I bet the bell is leftover from a sweater Austria Cat's human made!
"There. Is that enough for you? You're so spoiled," she says as she pets my back.
"Enough for now!" I purr.
"That's good. Now, you know the other tradition we have for Christmas Eve. When the guests all sit down to eat, the lady of the house has to stay in her seat, or the hens won't lay next year."
"Oh, I never follow that rule but yeah?"
My bell is jingling and jingling as I spin in my seat. It's more satisfying than my tail, but don't let my tail know that!
"I need to go pick up the carp to make halászlé. It should only take twenty minutes, so in the time, can you practice staying in your seat for the Christmas dinner? You can stay in your seat and jingle your bell to stay entertained, but you can't get out of your seat."
I give a sigh. Every year she has me practice. I can't tell if it's because I get into fights with the guest cats or if I spend too much time on the table trying to sample everyone's food. But I suppose I'll oblige her while she's out. There isn't really a point to it if she can't see me, but we cats have to be gentle on humans' logic sometimes.
My human grabs her purse and zips up her coat. I hear her opening and closing the door from my perch on the teal cushion. Eggs are at stake. Eggs! Cats don't care about eggs. It's not my responsibility to preserve all of the eggs for my country's kitty cats. But I will keep myself calm. It's only twenty minutes. At least in here I don't have to look at the bare corner where a tree should be. I have my jingly bell… though it would be too much fun to tear around the house and listen to the wild jangling it makes.
My claws have to grip the cushion so I don't bound off and away. My tail is wiggling and wagging, feeling the phantom wind as it flaps back and forth behind me. I hear the bell. Jingling. Always jingling. Jingling when I run and jump and never silencing even when I jump into bed and scramble under the covers. Jingling still, jingling right up until Christmas.
"Hey, what's that cool noise? Do you have a new toy, Hungary Cat?"
My ears are up straight, and my fur stands on end. Prussia Cat jumps into the seat across from me at the table. I didn't even hear him come in! He's got his gold tinsel collar, and his fur looks freshly brushed.
"Where were you hiding?" I growl.
"I wasn't hiding anywhere? I just took a wormhole and popped right in."
"Your lies are getting more outlandish every day. Are you still "manifesting tuna" in the basement of your house?"
"Not anymore," he says. "Germany Cat was getting heavy, and the humans noticed. So… that bell looks pretty fun. Why not run around with it?"
"I have to stay in my seat. My human's gone out to buy fish for the fish soup, and to practice modesty on Christmas Eve, I'm keeping still and resisting temptation."
His red eyes crinkle at the edges, and he sticks out his tongue. "Your human went to buy fish?"
"Yes. For the halászlé. The carp-and-paprika soup."
"Is there anything you don't eat paprika with?"
"What about you and Brötchen?"
"They're called Schrippen! Germany Cat just calls them Brötchen because he's been living in Bonn for too long!"
"To each his own," I chuckle. "I really want to run around with this bell. It would distract me from our tree-less house."
"Well, you can."
"I can, but I won't. I'll wait until my human comes back with the fish."
"I think you already have the fish. Carp, right?"
I cock my head and wiggle my tail. "Yes, it's carp."
Prussia Cat grins. "I guarantee your human already bought carp and just doesn't want you getting at it. She lied to you."
I stare long and hard at Prussia Cat. At his smirky jowls stretched tight and his frazzled whiskers I wish I could straighten and his matted patch of fur on one ear. Sincerity is never his gambit, but then, everything is a gambit to him. He wants to play with my bell.
"Okay, show me the fish, then." I meow.
My head ducks low and my ears fold as I watch him parade over into the tight kitchen. He hoists himself up on two legs and paws at the fridge handle until the door swings open. Craning my neck, I see the silvery skin of carp all cut and tied on the top shelf.
"She did lie! I bet she's getting poppy seeds! She complained about not having any this morning!" I yowl.
Prussia Cat pushes the door closed and grins, wiggling his tail back and forth.
"I want to know what noise that bell makes when you run around with it."
"Me too," I meow, shuddering with anger.
"Want to tear all the wallpaper off in that corner spot so your human will have to put a tree there?"
He always knows what I'm thinking.
~N~
Is there anything Hungary doesn't eat with paprika? Wouldn't it turn her hair orange after a while? XD
Germany has too many names for bread rolls. Depending on the region, you can have your Wurst in Brötchen, Schrippen, Semmeln, and who knows what else...
Updated by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net December 24th, 2020. Reposters cursed.