My son, Morty, on the lookout for Santa Cat.
Morty demonstrates how Santa Cat will negotiate our chimney.
We also spent a few minutes discussing local fire safety ordinances.
Morty made certain a fresh saucer of milk and a dish of Tender Vittles were set on the hearth before bedtime. Worried about Santa Cat's weight, Morty ate three of the T.V. and nine laps of beverage to help alleviate his feline health concerns.
Won't you help, too? Send your savory kitty yummies and milk to: Morty, in care of this Web site. Offer void in chicken.
December 25, Dawn:
Morty (a k a Snorty), asleep against my leg, with visions of catnip toys dancing in his tail: Zzz-bzxz-zzzzz...
Donna (softly touching): Mikey's getting his back tickled on Christmas morning.
Mike (faintly): Mm-hmhh. Thank you, Jesus.
The boys caress and suitably spittle their aromatic gifts from Santa Cat. Morty received a catnip bug. Big brother Kelp got a lizard.
Morty: MEOW...MEORRRRRRRRRrr! Meowlllllrrr...
Mike: Morty, I don't speak Cat. It is customary, when you come to our country, to learn and talk our language.
Morty gives me the evil look.
Kelp is miffed, too. There's no Braunschweiger in his stocking.