(PHOTOS) Who Would Take Their Cat to See Santa?

The Santa cap was the last straw.

My wife and I had hauled our cat, Tux, to the Mall of America. He’d been remarkably forbearing up to that point. He only hissed when curious dogs and a laid-back feline named Kevin nosed the door of his carrier. He even endured the green-and-red, jingle bell wreath we placed around his neck.

But Tux snapped the moment we pulled the Santa cap onto his head. He thrashed about. He swiped at the hat with his paw. He clawed at the air with his hind legs. He wanted that hat off now!

The three of us were at the Mall of America, along with other crazy pet owners, to get photos with Santa. Dec. 11 was one of just two days the mall allows pets in on the holiday tradition.

I’d like to blame the visit on my wife, Christa. She was the one who found out about the event. But the truth is I pushed both cat and wife to get the Santa photos taken. Christa, in fact, was so embarrassed to stroll through the mall with Tux in tow that she made a phone call for the express purpose of distancing herself from the cat and passing shoppers' curious expressions.

At home, we are the very definition of crazy cat people. Tux has his own stocking at Christmas. He has a perch bolted into the wall to watch the world go by. He was even the ring bearer in our wedding.

A photo session with Santa was one step past what my wife was willing to take, but it sounded to me like a grand way to liven up an otherwise boring Sunday night.

The rules alone prompted me to wonder just what kind of menagerie we’d encounter. No “wolves or wolf-dog hybrids.” No farm animals. No snakes or lizards over six feet in length. And no wild animals (“examples: lion, tigers, bears, raccoons, snakes, etc.” the mall’s website helpfully elaborated).

“Who’d want to bring a pet lion?” my wife and I asked each other.

Then again, who’d want to bring their cat?

Not many people, apparently. Even though we visited on the second day of pet photos, Tux wound up being just the third cat of the season to meet Santa. When we left just before closing, only one more cat had gone through after us.

The most exotic animal was an unreasonably calm rabbit. But the line had plenty of color—even without lions and tigers and bears.

An aloof canine named Yoshi, wearing his own Santa outfit, studiously ignored the yips around him from within a stroller his owners pushed.

Most of those yips came from a Yorkie named Leo. He barked at the larger dogs around him but backed away before Tux’s hisses.

The woman in charge of checking vaccination records was less skittish but not exactly an animal lover. She confessed that she’d never owned a pet.

Tux's nervousness increased when we extracted him from his carrier. I fastened the leash on his harness, and he made a beeline for the nearest niche—a lunge for sanctuary that was farther than he’s ever walked on a leash voluntarily.

Santa waved away the leash as I handed Tux to him.

“I got him,” he reassured me.

Turns out, the strikingly authentic Santa has been doing this for 14 years. He cradled Tux’s hind legs and supported his chest without ever letting his saintly smile slip. A photographer squeaked a toy in front of Tux’s face and retreated to the camera while making a high-pitched buzzing sound.

Tux meowed. But he didn’t fight and looked at the camera just long enough for the photographer to snap some mantle-worthy shots.

Although Tux wasn’t in the mood to acknowledge it, he may have seen a better Santa crew than any our future children are likely to experience.

After it was all over, Tux slunk back into his carrier. Christa and I picked the photos we wanted and ordered the “friends” package with enough wallets for our parents and a 5-by-7 that is sure to become a regular part of our holiday decorations.

Still, Tux would probably be relieved to know we don’t have any plans to go back.

At least, not until we get a puppy.