Since the kids are gone, Rob and I usually open our presents after the 11 o'clock Christmas Eve service at church. Technically, it's Christmas when we get home, so it's OK. I think my favorite present this year is the William Shatner album. I still think he's about as cool as cool gets, as I have for the last, uh, 40 years.
My granddaughters don't get my Shatner obsession.
"Grandma, he's old and fat!"
Yeah. Aren't we all.
And of course we have to give the dog and the cats their presents. The dog got a ball and a couple of squeaky toys, and the cats got mice. Catnip mice and fuzzy mice. Jasper really loves the little fuzzy ones because he can toss them across the room and then run and pounce on them.
After we finished opening presents, I looked into the kitchen and saw three of them -- a green one, a brown one and a gray one. When I looked closer, I saw the gray one move, then it got up and scampered across the kitchen.
The drought had driven mice into people's houses looking for food. We've had more of them in the garage this year, and it seems no matter how many I trap, more move in. But they haven't moved into the house until now.
We're calling this one the Christmas mouse, and it will either get away or the cats will get it. Mice don't last long here.
I've offered a reward for the Christmas mouse. Whichever cat kills it gets double kitty treats for a week.
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