Poor Pudgy in his litter box going about his business, busily scraping away for 4 or 5 minutes which is his usual wont when conducting business in the litter box.
Suddenly a four foot tall, massive fir tree covered in fiber optic lights comes crashing down on his litter box where privacy is not only a right but an obligation in polite society.
Thankfully his is a covered box so he was able to plow his way through the branches and race like a streak of lightning to his bunker in the cabinet beside the refrigerator.
I heard the terrible crash and witnessed Pudgy's flight to safety as I tried to figure out what in God's Green Earth had occurred in my bedroom.
I went in to find the prevailing wind currents speeding through my eighth floor boudoir in a tornadic fashion which caused the tree to fall from it's majestic perch atop the table adjoining his litter box.
The crash was so violent that the antique, tinfoil star that I purchased my first Christmas away from home for the sum of 100 copper pennies because that was all I could afford was impaled into the side of my quilt on my bed. It is still afixed as we speak.
It took me over an hour to cajole Pudgy from the safety of his bunker and currently I am consoling him with the promise of a never ending supply of treats and pettings for the rest of the evening.
He seems inclined to forgive me for allowing a disaster of major proportions to interrupt his otherwise peaceful life.