📝🐱🐱🎄 A Christmas Carol: How Little Miss Dickens Stole Mr Scrooge's Heart (and Opened His Wallet)

By Mrs. Cotton, Sovereign of the Household, Senior Human Behaviour Analyst and Reluctant Witness to a Developing Romance

My dear subjects,

I have been observing a rather extraordinary development within the palace.

The male human is falling in love.

There. I have said it.

Naturally, he would probably deny such an accusation. He might call it getting attached, growing fond or some other emotionally restrained expression designed to preserve what remains of his dignity.

But I have eyes. And I have been conducting this particular investigation since 11 March.

The object of his increasingly obvious affection is, of course, Little Miss Dickens.

Yes. The slippery little tiger.

In barely three weeks, this miniature creature has achieved something I have been working towards for eight months.

I am not jealous.

I am professionally astonished.

And I believe Charles Dickens himself would have appreciated the irony.

Because, you see, our male human has a great deal in common with a certain Mr Ebenezer Scrooge.

Especially where treats are concerned.

Bah! Humbug! The Royal Treat Budget

The male human, whom I have privately renamed Mr Scrooge, has always maintained a rather peculiar relationship with the palace treat budget.

The female human, bless her generous heart, understands that treats are an essential part of maintaining a happy and productive monarchy.

Mr Scrooge, on the other paw, appears to believe that every Dreamie must be personally authorised by the Bank of England.

I sometimes suspect he keeps a little ledger somewhere.

One treat for Mrs. Cotton. Unnecessary expenditure. Review next quarter.

To be fair, he does have his moments.

Whenever he embarks upon one of his beloved Nespresso expeditions, I generally receive a little treat. It is a pleasant arrangement. He gets his coffee, I receive my compensation, and the palace continues to function.

However, outside these scheduled occasions, the distribution of treats can become alarmingly unpredictable.

An entire afternoon may pass.

Sometimes practically a whole day.

Without so much as a supplementary biscuit.

I have considered reporting Mr Scrooge to the appropriate authorities, but unfortunately he appears to be the person responsible for opening the cupboard.

A deeply unfortunate conflict of interest.

Enter Miss Dickens: The Ghost of Treats Yet to Come

And then along came Miss Dickens.

A tiny tiger with exceptionally slippery paws, absolutely no respect for established seniority and, as I am beginning to discover, a rather sophisticated understanding of human psychology.

She climbs up against Mr Scrooge.

She settles herself beside him.

She licks his hand.

She purrs as though someone has installed a miniature diesel engine inside her.

And Mr Scrooge?

He melts.

Completely.

This is the same gentleman who can examine my perfectly reasonable request for an additional treat with the financial caution of a Victorian bank manager.

Yet one lick from Miss Dickens and suddenly the old miser is behaving like a man who has just discovered the true meaning of Christmas.

I have spent eight months developing a relationship based on mutual respect, careful supervision and several thousand meaningful stares.

Miss Dickens has apparently solved the entire problem with saliva.

I shall have to review my methods.

The literary significance has not escaped me either.

In Charles Dickens’ famous A Christmas Carol, three spirits were required to transform Ebenezer Scrooge into a kinder, more generous gentleman.

Here at the palace, one very small kitten named Dickens appears to be achieving similar results without the inconvenience of supernatural intervention.

Although I suspect the original Scrooge was considerably less likely to have his fingers licked.

An Unexpected Economic Miracle

However, I must acknowledge that this situation has produced one rather magnificent benefit.

When Dickens receives a treat, I receive one too.

Every. Single. Time.

This is revolutionary.

For years, economists have debated the effectiveness of trickle-down economics.

I can now confirm that it works beautifully, provided the economy consists of two cats, one besotted Mr Scrooge and a cupboard full of treats.

Miss Dickens performs her little routine.

Mr Scrooge reaches for the treats.

And I, as the senior member of the household, collect my rightful share.

No licking required.

I am beginning to regard her less as a junior palace resident and more as a highly effective commercial representative.

She handles the negotiations.

I enjoy the dividends.

Quite frankly, I should have recruited her sooner.

If this continues, I may even nominate her for the palace’s Employee of the Month award.

Naturally, the position remains unpaid.

One mustn’t encourage unreasonable expectations.

The Sofa Situation: A Test of True Love

Meanwhile, another important development is approaching.

The magnificent new corner sofa I ordered through the humans is due to arrive in approximately one week.

At last.

A proper piece of furniture befitting my position, offering sufficient space for royal lounging, strategic observation and the occasional carefully supervised human.

Naturally, I have certain expectations concerning its condition.

And I have certain concerns concerning Miss Dickens.

She is young.

She is enthusiastic.

She has claws.

And she occasionally approaches furniture with the intense concentration of a demolition contractor examining a particularly promising building.

I shall, of course, supervise her introduction to the new sofa.

Personally, I would never damage a sofa.

The late Snickers may have had a rather different interpretation of acceptable armrest maintenance, but I have always considered upholstery a matter requiring considerable dignity.

Whether Dickens shares my refined standards remains to be seen.

More interestingly, however, I am curious how Mr Scrooge will react if his beloved little tiger decides that the brand-new corner sofa is an excellent location for some experimental claw work.

Will his newly discovered affection survive?

Will he still call her his adorable little cuddle-bum?

Will he continue gazing lovingly into her little face while she enthusiastically converts several hundred euros’ worth of upholstery into modern art?

Or will the old Ebenezer suddenly return?

Bah! Humbug! That’s a brand-new sofa!

I shall observe this experiment with considerable scientific interest.

From a safe distance, naturally.

Preferably from the undamaged end of the sofa.

The Redemption of Mr Scrooge

For the moment, I have decided to encourage this developing relationship.

Miss Dickens appears happy.

Mr Scrooge is becoming increasingly affectionate.

The female human can enjoy watching the two of them together.

And I am receiving more treats than ever before.

Everybody wins.

Perhaps this is the beginning of a genuine transformation.

Perhaps, just as in Charles Dickens’ famous story, our own Mr Scrooge will eventually discover that happiness is not found in carefully guarded treasures, but in generosity, affection and sharing one’s good fortune with others.

Preferably in the form of chicken-flavoured Dreamies.

I shall therefore permit Little Miss Dickens to continue her campaign of cuddles, kisses and strategic purring.

She may believe she is winning Mr Scrooge’s heart.

I know she is opening his wallet.

And if a tiny kitten can accomplish in three weeks what three Christmas ghosts once needed an entire night to achieve, I see no reason to interfere.

Although I do intend to inspect that new sofa rather carefully.

After all, Mr Scrooge may have discovered the spirit of giving, but I doubt he has yet discovered the joy of paying for a second sofa.

Yours, Mrs. Cotton 🐱🐾 Senior Sovereign, Treat Budget Beneficiary and Chairwoman of the Sofa Preservation Committee

P.S. Should Mr Scrooge wake up tomorrow morning and spontaneously distribute treats to everyone in the household, I shall consider Miss Dickens’ literary mission a complete success.

God bless us, every one. Particularly those of us who have been waiting since March.