But while most every cent went for debt service, after the hospital and vet bills were paid we did put aside a little money to buy a Christmas present for the cats. So in the spirit of those "Your Tax Dollars at Work" signs that are always posted alongside a public works project, and are supposed to make you feel better about creeping along at five miles per hour until the flagman waves you past the orange cones, here's where a fraction of your generosity went:
Riley and Moondoggie's Scratching Post as of December 24:
Just in case you've ever wondered why, in every murder in which mutilation plays a part -- from Jack the Ripper to the Black Dahlia -- the first suspect is always a cat.
And the Christmas Day Scratching Post:
"It's a Christmas miracle...!"
Wo'C Staffer Keith also went all out this year, as seen below, in his brief, Linus-like essay on the true meaning of Christmas.
Santa can tell you, every boy and girl wants a nice, plush, cuddly eight-foot snake under their tree. I copped one.
"A Bob Clampett car-toooo-OOON!"
Lorelei: Why, no -- My goodness, yes!
Lorelei: He was telling me about South Africa. lt's dangerous. Full of snakes called pythons. lt seems a python can grab a goat ... and kill it by squeezing it to death.
Dorothy: Get to the point.
Lorelei: That's all.
Dorothy: What's incriminating about that?
Lorelei: Well, Piggie was being the python, and l was a goat.
Dorothy: Oh, Lorelei!