Christmas cats

Vino/Tabby/Tigger came in last night to take a look at the Christmas tree. He's scared of his own shadow, so this is as close as he goes to the strange thing. He didn't come around at all last week during the cold snap. And did I worry? No I did not. I figured he was somewhere inside, warming a neighbor's sofa. As you can see, he hasn't lost any weight perambulating around the neighborhood in cold weather.

We used to have a fine old tabby named Cowboy, and I still miss him. He had plenty of what the ancient Romans called gravitas. He thought having a real tree in the living room was the finest thing. He was way too cool to climb it or play with the balls, but he always made himself a nice nest under there, where he could take naps and watch the holiday chaos in peace and quiet. He would come out to play "string" on Christmas morning before the dogs arrived. I used to grumble because I had to buy a cheap felt tree skirt every year-- it was matted with cat hair. Now I wish he was still hiding under there.

"Cats seem to go on the principle that it never hurts to ask for what you want."
John Wood Krutch