Do Cats Know it's Christmas?

"It's like my parents care more about their grandkitty than me!" huffed Justin.

I'd been concentrating on my lats, slowly returning the pull-down weight to the start position. But when my personal trainer Justin mentioned his parents' "grandkitty," I lost focus and just let go of the bar.

"Grandkitty?"

"My cat Miss Georgia," he said matter-of-factly. "She's my parents' grandkitty. And man, they went all out this year. Individually wrapped furry mice and a wind-up gerbil!"

While my regular personal trainer Isaac is singing his way through Europe for the holidays, I've been working out with Justin Popovics, who happens to be one of the top pageant contestant swimsuit competition trainers in the country. Last year he trained Miss Florida, Miss New York and Miss Arizona, all for the Miss USA competition (not to be confused with the Miss America system). Never mind the inter-state conflict of interest.

He also trained Mrs. Oregon, who after birthing four kids, is still smoking hot, thanks to Justin. (Interestingly he's never trained a Miss Georgia.)

As for me, regardless of what you're into, check out my new back muscles and I guarantee you you'll be drooling!

Anyway, he's convinced that his cat knows it's Christmas. And last year ended up less than merry:

"Miss Geogia was sleeping on her Moroccan daybed on Christmas Eve," he recounted slowly. "So I very quietly tacked her stocking to the wall - you know, with a little push-pin. Green, of course. I had already stuffed it with a few toys. But," he confessed, "I'd forgotten the bell-wand."

I was doing reverse flies now. To work my new rhomboids.

"Bell Wand?" I exhaled, imagining a walnut in the middle of my back, held in place by my muscles. (It's all about visualization.)

"You know, the long dangling wand with a tinker on the end."

"Sounds whimsical," I said, releasing the weights, but not the walnut.

"Right, but as I was slipping the bell-wand into the stocking, it rang. Miss Georgia turned and looked right at me." Justin seemed genuinely upset at himself. "I tried to pretend it was the phone or a tea kettle or an alarm. But she knew."

"What happened?" I felt for Justin, remembering the extraordinary lengths my father and mother went to make sure we didn't find the presents before Christmas morning: waking up in the middle of the night, driving to my grandmother's apartment to pick them up, then setting them under the tree pre-dawn. It's amazing to me that I never caught them doing elves' work. (I have been very very lucky.)

But at least human sleep patterns are somewhat predictable. Cats are far trickier.

Justin seemed anguished now: "She ran over and started swiping at the stocking. I tried to keep it away. I swear I tried. But there was no point ... I just let her dig through it." He fell silent, eyes downcast.

"So what? Miss Georgia opened her presents on Christmas Eve!" I was in full spin mode. "Hey, don't be so hard on yourself."

"In my apartment, we open our presents on Christmas morning," he said sharply. He didn't want forgiveness. "That's why this year each individual present is wrapped."

"So Miss Georgia knows the presents are in the stocking?"

"Right."

"But since they're wrapped, they remain a surprise."

"Exactly. She's not going to be able to unwrap them without my help. And that won't happen until Christmas morning." Justin was resolved to right last year's wrong.

I only had one more question:

"Do you think that Miss Georgia actually knows it's Christmas?"

Justin just stared at me.

***

What do you think? Do cats know it's Christmas? What about dogs? Or dolphins? (They're the really smart ones, right? Or are porpoises smarter?)

And do you think Justin is insane? (Even if he is, trust me: he's a great trainer!)

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And now, back by popular demand, our Cat Lady of the Month!