In a blatant abuse of Auntie Sharon's generosity in allowing us to use her washing machine, I can't resist letting everyone know that she's a big softy.
At Millbrooker Towers we have a pair of cats, and we're very fond of them. We don't, however, think that they have any remote idea about celebrations or occasions. They're cats. They just do cat things. They go out a bit, they come in when they're tired or cold, they eat, fart, sleep, hunt (ineffectually) and occasionally issue forth with a purr. That's more or less it in the cat world.
Auntie Sharon appears to think differently. Here's her three animals not one of which has the faintest idea of abstract thought or any concept of anything much really. This is because they are cats. Cats which obviously enjoy a nice Rayburn glow.
Given that animals simply don't know it's Christmas time at all (there's a song in there somewhere), these three will be pleased to get special luxury food, but will have absolutely no idea why. Here's their special Christmas "menu" lovingly laid out for the cat-feeder-in-chief:
So, roughly as you're reading this Thomas, Phrenic and Mr Marmalade will be about to tuck into (or might have already tucked depending on when you're logging on) a yummy Christmas dinner supplied by their big softy "mummy": our very own Shazzerooneypoos.
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