So they both got finely chopped chicken served to them in a lordly dish with much crooning and praise.
Up there's the cat in her accustomed cat-coma, sleeping off Christmas dinner, cat version.
I didn't buy her any toys. She turns her nose up at toys.
And to the right here is the dog, slightly more alert than the feline. Note the new squeaky toy. It's blue. It has eyes. And spots. And three (count 'em three!!) air bladders inside, each squeaking at a different note. The dog has a high old time playing tunes on it.
Outside is the accustomed tribute for the birds. Sunflower seeds. Only the best for my feathered friends.
The dog is grateful.
The cat, as usual, accepts my tribute.
Who knows what birds feel?