"Tusk, tusk," said the tall blonde woman as the walrus jammed his girth through the doorway, cracking the load-bearing support opposite the hinges of the door.

"I won't choose THAT doorway if there's an earthquake in here!"

She walks over to the tree, past the cats, gently nudging chameleons out of the way with the tip of her shoe, and reaches down to gently dislodge one of the duck's knees from a large crack in what used to be the bar.

"There you go, get along, little duckie."

She pulls several objects out of her pocket, examines them closely, looks around the room, back at her hand, then carefully pulls out the perfect miniature representation of a lumber 2x4 on a small gold hook and places it in the tree. She bends over to the wet spot where the walrus passed close to the tree and picks up the discarded metal lid to the wine snack jar. This she props on the branch between two small twigs, near the 2x4. Next, she pulls some bread from her pocket and drops it gently on the duck's head. In the spirit of the season, she has cast bread upon the wattles.

She ducks quickly to avoid the lumpy objects being half-heartedly chucked her way.