They say it's a legend, just the story we tell to scare children, but I'm here to tell you not to believe a word of it.

You would do well to beware the Yule Cat, no matter what they say.

My cousins and I grew up on the Icelandic countryside

and spent most of our lives within a stone to throw of our birthplace.

For two weeks in December, my saintly grandmother would welcome us into her home

so my parents could go Christmas shopping or have some time to themselves. She invited all my cousins as well,

a brood of eight when we were all assembled, and many nights after Grandd had made excuses for going off to the pub, Grandma would gather us around

the fire and tell us stories, stories about fairies, Queen Mab and her

ilk, and of the elves and darker things that had once been a part of this landscape.

She told her stories of Icelandic heroes and filled our dreams with monsters that begged to be slain as we took on our favorite champion's roles.

But, especially around the Christmas season, her favorite story was of the Yulcat.

He is a giant creature capable of stepping over palisades and creeping into tall buildings. He punishes the lazy and rewards those who work hard

and do their work year round. If you neglect your duties, the Yolkat will find your children.

Never doubt. His favorite meal is children without new clothes in winter, their

parents having spent their summers at leisure. Thankless children he hates as well,

those who scorn their parents' work in favor of frivolous things.

So be thankful, my children, that your parents work hard to keep such dark things away.

Most of the stories about the Yulcat involved naughty children who went into the woods at night.

Spoiled children whose parents found that the Yulcat had dragged them out through their window and gobbled them up,

and good children who went rushing home on Christmas Eve to get their clothing gifts before the Yulcat could get them.

My little brother, Sven, always held a deep fear of the Yulcat, but I can honestly never remember a time when I was afraid of it.

It always seemed goofy to me, and in my head, I just imagine a cat with giant legs that

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