Merry Christmas, and happy holidays, to all.
I don't try to get my hopes up too much when I stagger downstairs on Christmas morning to see what's waiting for me under the tree. But does it have to be the same damn cat that's been living here for 114 years, and refuses to die, and thinks of the tree as some halfway house between being indoors where it's warm and outdoors where she can kill things?...
Yes, that's Bane, photographed by my son, Mark, who's visiting for the holidays, and thinks it's cute that the cat is cozy and sleeping under the tree. He's the one who named the cat Bane, too, I think -- realizing that, when he and my daughter, Kristin, left home (which they both did, years ago), that the cat would be the Bane of my existence.
So now it's "Let sleeping cats lie," and there she is.
Except I suspect, many times when she appears to be asleep, she's pretending, and she's up to no good.
Ever since Bane started her own Twitter account -- @tvwwmascot -- and started Tweeting with the actual, official Snoopy, there's been no living with her.
Except I have to.
Happy holidays, everybody...