The charming old house
On a corner stood.
Eaves sighing and creaking,
As only old wood could.

The town was all dark,
With no one about;
The citizens all slumbering
In their snug beds, no doubt.

But wait! Is that a whisper?
And is there a band?
Is something afoot
In this Hill Country land?

What sends the mice scurrying?
What sets dogs to howl?
What sends constables hurrying
For creatures out on a prowl?

What is that light
In that window bow front?
The cats are a gathering!
Christmas joy they do hunt!

The Victorian Cat Family
Is all gathered here. . . .
Grown-ups and babies,
Big, tiny, and all dear.

They gather each Christmas
To bring smiles of joy
To friends and to family
And to good girls and boys.

For only two months,
They come out of their cases.
And set up their display,
And go through their paces.

They're loved far and wide,
This merry little bunch;
As a holiday tradition,
They pack quite a punch.

But did you not wonder,
When they're packed away for the year,
About each little character,
And what story you might hear?

So some little "cat tales"
We will plan to write,
To focus on individuals;
Certain ones we'll highlight.

We hope you'll enjoy
Our efforts to spin
The Victorian Cats' stories,
And that of their kin.