Finn, our clever , fluffy cat, has discovered his Christmas presents. We have moved them twice, now but that cat can sniff out catnip at twenty paces. I have had to remove them to the top of the wardrobe. It is worse than having little kids in the house. I was trimming sprouts this morning when a set of sharp little claws crept up over the table edge and tried to swipe some. He is always up to no good; digging in plant pots, sitting on open books and chasing shadows up walls. Porter is too fat and lazy to bother with these shenanigans, apart from having the odd fight. Oh well, time for bed. See ya, Pen.