by Claudine Gandolfi
1998
'Twas the night before Dog-mas,
when all through the pound
not a puppy was yelping,
or playing around;
Our leashes were hung
by our kennels with care,
in hopes that St. Bernard
would soon find us there;
Chihuahuas were curled up,
all snug in their beds,
while visions of doggie-treats
danced in their heads;
Max in his collar,
on somebody's lap,
had tucked in his tail
for a midwinter's nap,
When outside the room
there arose such a clatter,
my ears perked right up
to hear what was the matter.
Away to the window
I jumped up with glee,
and barked at the shadows
that were cast by a tree.
The glow from the moon
changed night into day,
and started me thinking,
"Woof, woof! Time to play!"
When, what with my puppy-dog
eyes did I see,
But a splendid dog-sled,
led by doggies like me,
With a regal furred driver
commanding, not stern.
I yelped to the others,
"That must be St. Bern!"
More rapid than greyhounds
our saviors they came,
and we barked and we howled,
and called them by name:
"There's Duchess!
There's King!
fat Chance,
and bare Buffy!
On Fido! On Scooter!
On, Rover and Scruffy!
Go by the red hydrant
and run past those trees!
Nothing can stop you,
not even some fleas!"
As puppies at play
chase after a stick
and race to their masters
so lively and quick,
So out in the field
his canines all flew,
catching the frisbees,
that St. Bernard threw.
And then in an instant,
I heard at the door
the scratching and clawing
of each little paw.
As I pulled in my nose,
and was turning around,
Through the door St. Bernard
came in with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur,
from his head to his tail,
his wood cask adorned
with an icing of hail;
A bag of chew-toys he had
brought in with him,
and his mouth was turned up in
what looked like a grin.
His eyes - how they twinkled!
his ears flopped, how merry!
His coat shone like crystal,
his nose like a cherry!
His big sloppy mouth
was drawn up like a bow,
and the fur on his chin
was as white as the snow;
The stump of a bone
he held tight in his teeth,
and his collar encircled
his neck like a wreath;
He had a large face
and a furry round belly
that shook when he barked,
like a bowl full of jelly.
He was fluffy and plump,
a big, cuddly old pooch
and I laughed when I saw him
and gave him a smooch.
A wink of his eye and
a wag of his tail;
we knew right away
we'd have homes,
without fail.
He howled not a howl, but
went straight to his deed,
and took down our leashes
that soon we would need.
He opened the door,
and families stood there,
with children, all smiling,
and much love to spare.
He leapt to his sled,
to his team gave a call,
and away they all flew
as if chasing a ball.
But I heard him exclaim
as he chewed on a bone:
"Happy Dog-mas to all
and to all a Good Home!"
'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CAT-MAS
from dezert-rose.com
2001
'Twas the night before Catmas
When all through the house
Not an animal was stirring,
Not even the mouse.
The kitties were snuggled
And tucked in their beds,
While visions of cat goodies
Danced in their heads.
Their stockings were hung
By the cat bowls with care,
In hope that Father Catmas
Soon would be there.
Out on the rooftop
There arose such a hissing,
I knew Father Catmas
Was having trouble parking.
I jumped on the couch,
Stuck my nose to the curtain.
"Here he is!", I purred
"It is him, I'm certain."
What to my deep blue eyes
Should appear,
But Father Catmas himself
In his Catsled gear.
He purred and he purred,
But through the kitty door he went,
Then stopped and smelled the air
As he picked up a scent.
The cat cookies we left him
Were by the back door.
The kitties had baked them
Not an hour before.
He went about his work
With never a sigh,
Filling the stockings
With toys piled high.
He waved at me
With his mighty paw.
Although I was hiding,
'Twas my little nose he saw.
Out the kitty door he went
In oh such a rush,
Jumped on his catsled
And yelled out, "MUSH!"
The eight Maine Coon cat team
Were raring to go.
They hated 'stand stay',
Especially in the snow.
I could hear him hissing
As he disappeared that night,
"Merry Catmas to all!
OK team, turn rrrrright!"
'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CAT-MAS
by Mark Mason
1999
'Twas the night before Cat-mas and all through MY house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse...(I ate it).
My kitty stocking was hung by the cat door with care,
In hopes that Santa Claws soon would be there;
The humans were nestled all snug in their beds,
While we cats in the darkness danced on their heads;
Big Owner in his "sleepy's", and me his loyal cat,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out in the 'hood there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to four paws to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Eating curtains and shades (I threw up the sash).
The street lamp outside shined eerily below,
Maybe two cats fighting? Paw to paw, blow-by-blow?
No, wait! What my sharp kitty eyes should detect,
But a miniature cat box, and that Devonshire Rex.
A little old driver, all hairy with paws,
I knew in an instant it must be Santa Claws.
More rapid than hairballs his coursers they came,
And he howled, he meowed, he called them by name;
"Now, BOMBAY! now, BIRMAN! RAGDOLL and BURMESE!
On, PIXIE-BOB! on KORAT! on, PERSIAN and SIAMESE!
To the top of the fence! To the top of the tree!
My felines are awaiting, they are all purring!"
As dry heaves that before the wild furballs fly,
When he meets with an obstacle, they jump to the sky,
So over my shingles the kitties they flew,
With the carriage full of cat morsels, and Santa Claws too.
With a turn of my ear, I heard on the roofpole
The scratching and clawing of each kitty's sole.
I drew in my head, and was spinning around,
When through the cat door Santa Claws did abound.
A long hair in fur, of course, from head to foot,
And his hairs were all shiny, well coiffured, nicely put.
A bundle of cat toys he had flung on his back,
You'd swear he was pedigree just him with his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! His whiskers how bold!
His cheek hairs so soft, his nose...oh, how cold!
He shed not a hair, each strand in its place
The most famous of all of the proud feline race.
The stump of some cat nip he held tight in his teeth,
Its aroma encircling his head like a wreath;
An imposing cat with the biggest belly in history,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of Friskies.
A grimalkin of breed, a right jolly old cat!
Did I say grimalkin, how could I think that!
A twitch of the whisker and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He mewed not a sound, but went straight to his work,
Filled my stockings with kitty treats; then turned with a jerk,
And laying a talon aside of his nose,
After giving a nod, out the cat door he goes;
He sprang to his cat box, to his team gave
"MEOW!"
And away they all flew, like the wind they did howl.
But I heard him exclaim, where he drove out of sight,
"MEOWY CAT-MAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"
© 2003 Karen Catalioto
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