I was attempting a nap when I heard a slight commotion beside the couch. The Christmas tree ornaments were rattling. Huh?
Chicken was curled up beside me in her catnip haze, but Harley was nowhere to be found. That usually means Harley is somewhere being naughty.
I looked at the tree, and nothing seemed amiss. It was still standing, afterall. But as I got closer, I heard it. Purring. My tree was purring. Leave it to Harley to purr while breaking a cardinal cat rule: No Climbing Christmas Trees.
Sure enough, nestled about a third of the way up the tree was Harley, all, "Oh, hi!"
I quickly grabbed my camera to catch what I could of the Christmas tree violator, but she knew she was busted and quickly retreated. But I tried.