Durn ya, Bobert, now my eyes are all blurry. I'll have to show this one to my fearsome daughter Amy.
Last Sunday she and I brought in our tree, and about half an hour later one of our visitor cats declared that she was ready to be petted and adored, thank you. Her name is now Cassia (that's an old fashioned name for what's now sold as cinnamon). I thought she was going to do serious havok on her lower chakras from all that food she packed away, but so far so good. She's almost full grown, and doesn't really know how to play, but purrs up a storm.
Seems appropriate somehow that Christmas cat stories end up on the Mudcat, eh?