Todd squinted at the alarm clock. Six o’clock. “Ugggggghhhh,” he moaned, “it’s way too early.” But since the tree was bulging with presents he figured it was worth dragging himself out of bed—even if it was still dark outside.
   As Todd lumbered down the stairs, he glanced out the window. “Hey look out by the barn!”
    “What is it—Santa Claus?” Shari smirked.
    “No . . . it’s that stray cat again.”
    Todd and Shari joined their mom at the kitchen sink as they peered out the window. The scrawny cat lay shivering under the hay truck. Todd fetched another can of cat food. When he opened the sliding glass door, the cat bolted into the bushes. Todd set the food on the porch and then joined the family at the breakfast table. “Well, at least the cat ate what we put out there last night. Maybe someday that goofy cat will figure out that we’re only trying to help her stay alive.”
    “Too bad we don’t speak cat talk,” Shari mused.
    “Huh?” Todd was confused.
    “If we knew how to talk the cat’s language we could explain that we’re her friends,” Shari said. “But since she can’t understand what we say, she doesn’t know that we’re her friends and not her enemies.”
    “Good point,” Mom said as she opened the family Bible. She turned to Luke 2 to read the Christmas story—