![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0pr0atPCTlMdUlzz_ze1XAbntAvVrmI5qkdkh0LpaQR2IZT87eryTm8PHBFm-jKIGBo1VNEWKeRbasf2BVmfQlETFikWo6YpCtskajjWYIza8hu4cJ2FcmR_lkTxh-HDloI-Feynbb2U/s1600/IMG_5796.JPG) |
We set up our Christmas tree, and our Nativity scene, complete with toy store, a downed polar bear, a train, and a blanket of fake snow. |
Biscuits has never jumped onto this table. She doesn't jump much, since she is shaped like a tripod. But, there has never been a blanket of fake snow on the table.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfsPZrnRR5psuc0Y6WNQuA12o1k7t29XHvUJ7QmO83rEOZu-nhiruGxXCDfEhp2krkbRCBhEs35YsBao89c_kNk7Kod_bKvYUcOfQARScv5I4b2Tb6k-IVwE7vHsAqfWzT4SrHKfxnDgk/s1600/IMG_5805.JPG) |
Biscuits thinks about the real meaning of Christmas. |
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOHEI6-hSiKXvJR3_26cyh_Ak6mC5U9zgdNKNwQJ7RBD_vQgbRcxnd4bFAeMj3sVB5DX1dLk_HN7aja7FrLlCd_rYauc8Ebn0zOQul8SDfPeq9nobowhUrm-QmV1O8m62L1PgJhb22zo/s1600/IMG_5808.JPG) |
She contemplates stealing the baby Jesus out of his manger. No Biscuits! Don't do it! |
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkF2Fp86UzcgMvR4r6X8AR4m7d1Tt3e1gLLu9JF7GKZjj3ZHVos6onrbGCe_9ohBVUJZhtRxdAA0K5K44DkF_07Jh7INYhRfQKhqQOI4VZXj1PKM_S9zonV9odnEL74P0KKw9JRJIp9g/s1600/IMG_5800.JPG) |
She decides to lay down on a railroad car instead. |
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78Hf4aPKncF0ZwSqF4miciRAyr_zAMsoxcu1aBtE0KQxuLzW-lNwgm6EEbqVv0He8-gXII6ETRLQqhCAkvMw8mxKJT8Cc-7vVg3nNZa3tWtOoEdSyO3Ks8Rc2SHXRSzvbaud4iHK4ea8/s1600/IMG_5790.JPG) |
Biscuits settles in for the long, cold, bone shattering, winter. Secure in the knowledge that she is queen of her own village. |
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3U7-gTOh-coKh3w_SMCstmpgrCCh8EYVDCsQxQU96A2W1N4VlHMfbshOYJY0FCcV4Rm-1gUQvNrqOsVFKNCjtc7Idghp1f8QXFTDd4-MpK2ZELoWhFeCl8rYbbap9lDNd9oVBnK6c9O8/s1600/IMG_5811.JPG) |
Get off my lawn. |
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