Overnight the lovely sweet-smelling fir tree was decorated with bows, shiny glass balls, case-hardened gingerbread cookies and assorted animal treats by the Tavern's cats, ducks, and humans. The squid hung the star on the top in a move no one can easily describe, so I won't. In the morning gifts started to accumulate underneath, most of them wrapped in colorful paper. Three notable exceptions were the bags of dry food—dog food, cat food, and dried corn for the ducks. These leaned against the wall beside the tree where they had been placed by a good Samaritan. "Thanks, Mudcat critters, for lovely memories in days gone by" said a note on the sack of corn, attached with a dab of silver duct tape.

Clementine, the rotund calico, sat near the forgotten harness in the beams above the tree, comfortably twitching her tail and eyeing the dogs eyeing the cat eyeing the squirrel in the pocket. A movement in the corner of her eye had Clementine suddenly leap from the beam onto the harness rope and bungee jump swiftly to within three feet of the floor. A large barn owl circled the room, startling all out of their warm holiday contemplation of the food chain, radically shifting their positions from one of "predator" to one of "meal."

Just then, Mmario walked into the room carrying a hot platter of something that smelled wonderful, and Rapaire lurched forward from his bench in the corner. . .