Conference misery::feline

    len-
    
    Your cat's reaction to an "unknown intruder" is no different
    then what I would get if a strange cat was brought into my
    household.   (I have 6 cats....4 indoor, 1 indoor/outdoor,
    1 outdoor)
    It took weeks for them to accept the last addition I brought
    home.  She lives in the barn, but we let her in some nights
    if she wants to come in out of the severe cold.  The indoor
    cats have accepted her, but they will still hiss or bat each
    other on the head if one invades the other's space.
    
    At 18, I think that Merlin might be at an age where 2 kittens
    might be too much for him.  Kittens can really pester the heck
    out of an old adult cat, who would rather rest and sleep the
    days away.  
    
    

    I can't relate to an 18 year old...but we did have a bully cat (Taffy)
    that was six when we introduced him to a very small kitten. Taffy
    had been an only cat for all his life.
    
    The funny part was we debated for years whether we wanted to add
    a new addition because we really thought Taffy would go after the
    kitten.  But it was truly amazing...they took to each other immediately
    and become very good friends and he was very protective of the kitten.
    
    But on the other hand...I have Van gogh who has to be confined and
    hates all other cats!!!    So sometimes it works...and sometimes it
    won't!!
    
    Sandy

On the other hand, two kittens are better than one kitten.  The two will 
soon learn to play with each other, since they have similar energy levels, 
and won't need the elder statesman to entertain them.

This past summer, I brought home 2 kittens that were to be a birthday 
present to my sister, to be delivered a month later.  The 2 resident pusses
included a 3 yr old (neutered) female who is very protective of *her*
home, and a 1 yr old (neutered) male.  Hannah hates all intruders, and 
was true to form when Lost & Found popped out of the carrier.  Much hissing, 
spitting, swatting, get-out-of-my-house growling. Simon, on the other hand,
was intensely curious.  He tried to play with them, but since he was so much 
bigger (10 lbs, vs 2.5 lbs each), he would overwhelm.  The kittens, Lost & 
Found, played for hours with each other.  Eventually, Simon joined in, but he 
had to learn to be very careful with how hard he played, because if he was 
too rough, L&F would simply go play somewhere else.  Hannah did eventually
learn to cope with this invasion, and although in the month I had L&F she never
*played* with them, I believe that given enough time, she would have.

Granted, I did not have the age difference that you are faced with, 
but I think that the concept of 2 to entertain each other does apply.

We introduced a kitten into a 1 cat household back when I came home from 
college, and it was much more traumatic for the older cat, since the 
younger one had no one his age to play with.

    I suppose the only thing you can do is try it! We had a kitten to stay
    for 1 week with our 'only' cat (at the time) and Carwash hated it -
    beating it up when she thought we weren't looking, and ignoring the
    reat of the time. I don't think she would ever have got used to it.
    Having said that our next door neighbour got a young kitten for their
    old (neutered) tom and after about a week they were fine.
    
    Andy

    The only problem with trying it is what if it doesn't work out?  It was
    thing trying to adopt Steve, a 4 year old neutered male who responded
    to Merlin's obvious ownership of the entire apartment by trying to mark
    everything as his own, especially my bedroom - Steve could be
    regretfully returned to his original owner, who understood the
    tentative nature of the adoption and was willing to accommodate a
    possible if not probable return.  I'm not sure kittens for sale could
    be returned so easily, and I don't want to face having to (re)place
    them myself.
    
    len.
    

    Not sure if you are looking for a true purebred...but many shelters
    have return policies that state if it does not work out you MUST
    return the cat to them!!
    
    Contact a few shelters and be honest with them.  Many will let
    you try it on a trial basis.  
    
    Sandy
    

    Purebred is not much of an issue, though in the best of all scenarios
    I'd like a pet quality pair of Maine Coons (or Norwegian Forest Cats), 
    Birmans or Somalis.  Regardless of breed (or lack of same), I would like
    a pair from the same litter, and as long as I'm being picky, I'd like to
    get kittens as young as possible.  There was a bond between Monkey and
    Wabbit (littermates) that was a joy to witness, and the half year or so
    of real kittenness is something I want very much to reexperience.
    
    I also expect Merlin would fell less threatened by or jealous about
    younger, smaller kittens.  Merlin is not a "fierce jungle beast" and
    flees to hiding rather than aggressively confronting threats, so I'm
    pretty convinced he'd represent no threat to young kittens. 
    
    But, all things considered, I'm ultimately more interested in making
    Merlin's last few years more enjoyable, than satisfying my own desire
    for a bunch of furry critters to keep *me* company.
    
    The responses so far just confirm my impression that no matter how much
    is common to all cats, they still exhibit a remarkable diversity of
    personality.
    
    len.
      

    I would go for it, Len.  I agree with the 2 kitten idea.  I have 
    introduced many, many cats to each other over the years and never
    had a problem,  but the idea of the 2 babes entertaining each other
    might easier both on you and your cat.  Each cat is an individual and
    their personalities are as unique as anyone elses. There is no
    guarantee you wouldn't have a problem, but chances are you'd be fine.
    I'd do it.  Save a couple homeless babies from the shelter. I'tll
    make  your day and  your life.
    

Len, 

Just think how a pair of furballs chasing and attacking each other can 
provide hours of entertainment for Merlin!

I agree with the littermate preference - they already know each other and
you won't have introduction problems there.  They'd probably figure out pretty
fast that Merlin may not want to play, and then they'll just entertain
themselves by doing a kitten number on you house :^)

Go for it - take two, they're small!

kathy

    Hi Len!  How are you?  
    Another thing to think about....
    You could easily take two different kittens of about the same age, not
    necessarily littermates.  Kittens don't really care who is with them
    as long as they have someone/thing to play with!  People seem to place
    their feelings into the kittens/cats, they really don't care.  That way
    you could possibly get two different types of the cats you like.  
    
    Also, most breeders will have you sign a contract and in it they might
    specify that they will take back the kitten if it doesn't work out.  I
    have a life long take back clause in mine.  Of course you would need to 
    get them vet checked if you were to return them, but every breeder is 
    different.
    Hope all is well,
    Karen
    dtn:223-8833

    Len,
    
    Check out note 316...it has good suggestion for adding a cat.  I added
    1 younger cat to an only cat home, and it's worked out fine.
    
    Good luck,
    
    Di & Li & Lu

    Thank you all for your encouragement and suggestions (and a special
    hello again to Karen F.).  I'll let you know what I decide and how
    things turn out.
    
    How about practical advice on how to keep an omnivorous old male on a
    geriatric diet and two little kittens on a kitty diet without running
    two separate residences?
    
    len.
    

    For the time being: could you put food up high for Merllin (assuming 
    he can jump onto counters) or "out of reach" of the little ones? 
    There's got to be a way :^)
    Karen

    Len,
    It's been awhile!  Have you made a decision yet?  I am sure 
    everyone will want to know!
    Karen

    My job changed and my office moved and things got a bit botched up for
    a while, but I'm finally back on the net.
    
    I guess I've decided to not take the risk.  Merlin has been utterly
    unaccommodating of other males, and the stakes are too high if he
    rejects two kittens.
    
    len.
    

    Well, I took the plunge.  At last weekend's show at the Boxboro Host, the
    Pat Brody Shelter had a cage with 5 adorable kittens set up by the
    entrance.  Sandy and I spent a while there admiring them, especially the
    three cream females with Siamese coloring.  There was a grey male who kept
    looking up at me.  Hmmm, I thought.  "You need kittens to keep Merlin
    company", Sandy said.  We stopped by again as we left.  Hmmm, I thought.

    Hmmm, I kept thinking all weekend.  Tuesday I called the shelter to see if
    the kittens had been spoken for yet.  Wednesday Priscilla called back to
    say one of the cream females was taken, but the other four kittens were
    still available.  Hmmm, I thought.  I made an appointment to visit the
    shelter Thursday afternoon.

    By then I had decided I was definitely going to take the two remaining
    cream females, but I kept thinking about the little grey male.  Three isn't
    that many more than two.  What's another kitten?  Just that much more
    love from him and responsibility for me.  A fair trade, probably.

    So I went to visit.  He kept looking at me and reaching through the cage to
    touch me.  I remembered somebody saying that cats choose us.  So maybe I
    was choosing the two females, but the fuzzy grey male was choosing me.  I
    capitulated.  I took three kittens home.

    I did the right thing.

    Well, Merlin is freaked out and hiding, but he was a little better this
    morning so I'm optimistic.  This is greatly compensated for by the fact
    that the kittens and I are getting on fabulously, and they seem to be
    enjoying themselves no end.

    They ran out of the cat carrier and immediately began exploring their new
    home.  None of this "adaptation period" stuff.  These are turbokitties.
    I set up their litter box and food, and voila, it was like they'd lived
    here all their lives.  Well, they're only eight weeks old, so maybe that's
    not saying much, but there have been no "accidents" and their litter box
    contains pee and poop, so I'm a proud daddy.

    I dug out my long unused box of kitty playthings, collected during Merlin
    and Monkey and Wabbit's early years.

    The sisters seem to stay together almost all the time, with their brother
    joining in now and then and going off by his own now and then.  After a
    couple of hours of crazy exploring they started "resting", so I picked them
    up and brought them over to the sofa where I stretched out for my evening
    read.  First one of the little girls came over and curled up by my
    shoulder, then the other came over and snuggled up on my chest, then my
    little grey boy came over and squeezed in.  They all have enormous purr
    boxes for their size, and I was surrounded by kitten-pitched rumblings.
    Then they went into a nursing frenzy, licking any patch of exposed skin
    (my face seemed to be a favorite area) looking for a nipple and kneading
    me with their needle sharp claws.  Cat motherhood must be a trial, I'm not
    sure I could stand it.  Eventually they conked out after it became clear
    I was a daddy-human not a mommy-cat.

    When it got to be time for bed, I took them into the bedroom and set them
    on the bed.  They wouldn't stay there and followed me around while I did
    my pre-go-to-bed-stuff.  Then they followed me to bed, and attacked me
    with another round of nursing frenzy.  After a while they ran off to do
    late night kitten stuff, and I nodded off.  In the morning, they were
    all there beside me (one of them had actually snuck under the covers).
    They followed me around again while I did my post-get-out-of-bed-stuff,
    and then I fed them and set up some things-on-the-end-of-long-strings-
    hanging-from-the-ceiling toys to occupy them during the day.

    Merlin had retreated to the back corner of the kitchen counter, so I spent
    a while consoling him before I told them all to be good and headed for
    work.

    So far, except for Merlin's discomfiture, so great.  *So* great!  What
    wonderful little creatures.  This is the beginning of a whole new phase
    of my life.

    They need names.  My little grey boy begs to be saddled with the cliche
    name "Smokey" (he's *that* color grey and his longish coat makes him look
    ethereal).  The girls are like little snowflakes, superficially similar
    but differing in so many tiny details.

    I'm a proud, happy daddy.

    len.

    
    
    	THREE kittens Len??!  oooooh how wonderful!
    
    	Make sure you let us know their names once they tell you
    	what they are.  =)
    
    	JJ
    

    Len, you sound like such a good purrson.  Congrats, on the new additons
    to the family.
    
    Steffi + 4

    Wow Len...three!!!!  I worked at the shelter Sunday and asked
    Linda if you had come to visit and how many did you go home with!!
    When she sais "he took all three...he couldn't part with the gray 
    boy"...I just SMILED!!
    
    I'm so happy three of our kittens found a wonderful home....and
    I can continue to hear updates.   Give Merlin a big hug for me 
    because he will need alot of love and patience to deal with the
    three little "hellions"!  Please continue to provide stories...
    
    Take your time in naming your furry kids.....the right name will come
    in time!!    
     
    Sandy

Yes, Len, go overboard on attention to Merlin for a while.  I know how much
fun kitties are, but Merlin really needs reassurance right now.  Good luck!

-Patrick

    3 kittens!!!  That's great!   They will certainly keep you in 
    stitches - theres' nothing like a bunch of tumbling, running, tugging
    kittens playing until they're too pooped to pop.
    
    Give Merlin Plenty of attention right now too!
    
    Denise and the gang of 10

    
    
    Merlin's adapting, albeit slowly.  He's holed up in the back corner of
    the kitchen counter, and though I've taken him out for walks around to
    see that nothing's really changed he prefers to hide there, so I fixed
    it up for him a bit.  He gave me a touching example of his sense of
    responsibility by relieving himself in the sink, which impressed me as
    a pretty smart improvisation given the circumstances.  When he sees one
    of the kittens (who tend to follow me into the kitchen when I go check
    up on him), he still howls or growls, but not as soul-piercingly or
    hair-raisingly as at first.  A few more days and he should be out and
    around.  The kittens remain curious about him, but when he lets go with
    some of his "vocalizations" (his mom was Siamese, and he's got "the
    voice") they decide discretion is the better part of valor and run around
    the corner.
    
    The kittens are now familiar enough that their distinct purrsonalities
    are starting to become apparent.  One of the tawny girls is a natural
    born huntress - when I tossed a mink tail toy out to them, she grabbed
    it immediately and amuses us all by strutting around with it in her
    mouth.  Every now and then she'll stop some place and maul it, growling
    from deep in her little throat.  Her eyes are a darker, clearer blue
    than her sister's, and they remind me of the blue waters of the
    Carribbean.  This seems like it may be a possible source for name.
    
    Her sister has decided that the best place to see the world from is my
    shoulder.  She climbs up me and settles down, and sits there content 
    regardless of what I do or where I go.  I feel a bit like a pincushion.
    I have the bad habit walking wround nekkid for a while after getting
    out of bed, and this morning I made the mistake of feeding them during
    this transition period.  My little shoulder rider doesn't yet
    understand the role clothes play in facilitating the climb to my
    shoulder, so she climbed up my bare backside.  Thankfully she's *very*
    fast, so I, uh, "barely" [;^)] noticed.  Her eyes are a bluish white like
    deep ice.  Maybe I'll call her "Floe".  Get it?  
    
    My little grey guy is such a sweetie, he just looks at you with his
    foxy little face and your heart melts.  He's definitely adopted me.
    He had me worried for a while, as he's found a well hidden secret hidey
    hole and he sleeps so soundly I thought he'd disappeared this weekend.
    He finally came out minutes before I had to leave for a few hours.
    He also developed a bit of a sneeze, a slightly watery eye and a slightly
    runny nose this weekend; I checked the Cornell book and these mild
    symptoms show up in about 10% of vaccinated kittens as a response to
    exposure to a respiratory virus (but from where? - his sisters aren't
    showing anything at all).  He's not showing any real symptoms of being sick
    (his eyes are clear, he's still full of energy, no fever, the amount of
    discharge is miniscule, not enough to make more crust than regular
    "sleepy dirt"), and this morning his eye was much improved and his nose
    wasn't runny.  I called my vet to make an appointment for all three of
    them for an introductory visit later this week, and they said as long as
    he's not obviously sick there's no need to bring him in right away, but
    I'll watch him very closely for the next few days.  It's clear he's going
    to be my favorite, even if only by a tiny bit.
    
    The vet seemed surprised by their nominal age (eight weeks; they can't
    be much more than that) and the fact that they had their first
    distemper shots a month ago (at age 4 weeks? a bit early?).  They were
    wormed a month ago, and now they're doing a course of Albon, which
    they're really good about taking.  Much as I trust Priscilla and the
    Pat Brody shelter, I'll feel better when they've gotten their first visits
    to Westboro Animal Hospital behind them.  
    
    The three of them regularly curl up together around/beside/atop me; if
    only Merlin felt comfortable joining us, but that looks to be just a
    matter of time.  After handling the kittens it's such a shock to pick
    him up, he's so big and heavy in comparison, even though he's not a
    "big" cat.
    
    Even more convinced that I did the right thing.  Sandy says these
    kittens have no idea how lucky they are; I think they have no idea how
    lucky I am.
    
    len.
    

    I'm so delighted to read of your adventures with the three little
    kittens!  
    
    I brought Babycakes home from Pat Brody Shelter just after Christmas,
    and 22-lb Harry (the Rat) was not amused .... 
    
    But you know, it's been 6 months (almost), and now they play and
    wrassle and chase each other -- and I think Babycakes has brought mad,
    impetuous YOUTH back into Harry's life, and he's more active, and
    healthier, than he ever was as a single cat.
    
    And though you'll never get Harry to admit it, when I'm working at my
    stained glass and the cats are nowhere to be seen, I'll sneak a peek
    around into the living room and --- sure enough, they're cuddling (butt
    to butt still counts as cuddling, I'm convinced) on the couch.
    
    If Harry catches me peeking, he will arise in a huff and give Babycakes
    a look which effectively says, "What did you do -- sneak up and snuggle
    while I was sleeping?" ... He'll never admit he enjoys it.
    
    And thanks for keeping us all posted.  My Babycakes is so special --
    she lived about 1.5 years at the shelter before she "found" me that
    winter day.  She's happy, I'm happy, and I'm convinced Harry isn't as
    put out as he thinks.
    
    The cutest event was after she was here a couple of days, and Harry had
    to chase her -- just to show her who was boss.  Well, she wheeled
    around, enjoying this new game, and began chasing him back!  He was
    struck dumb -- couldn't figure out where this little 6-lb creature got
    the gumption to chase mighty 22-lb Harry (the Rat)!
    
    So, keep us all posted, and give Merlin a few extra ear-scritches for
    us all, especially from Harry.

    
    We're making progress - Merlin's backed off to a few plaintive meows
    (it's really kind of sad to see this guy so intimidated by three little
    kittens) when one of the kittens presents him/herself.  He's still
    holed up in the counter corner, but he tends to sit facing out now
    (instead of in) like he's watching for the kitties instead of hiding
    from them.
    
    Merlin used to snuggle with Monkey and Wabbit; I'm sure he'll soon
    remember how good it felt to be part of a warm pile of cats, and let
    the little ones "take advantage" of him.
    
    len.
    
    

    Len,
    
     Your comment on Merlin being intimidated by the kittens made me think
    of the Framingham shelter the last couple of weeks. We normally don't
    have samll kittens in the main shelter, but the last couple of weeks,
    (becuase there are no URI's runing around for a change, thank GOD)
    we've had some wee ones running around with the big  shelter cats.
    
     These cats are used to being around other cats, and get along
    wonderfully, but they run like crazy from the kittens, as if they don't
    know exactly what they are! It's funny/sad to watch this, so I know
    what poor Merlin is going through with these three 'creatures' in HIS
    house! Harumph! ;-)
    
     I'm sure he'll come around very soon. Give him a few extra scrtiches
    under the chin from me and the Colaianni Clan, Furby Finnigan and
    Feendoonie! ;-)
    
    Yonee
                                                    

    
    I suppose it's to be expected that a cat can easily tell the difference
    between stuffed animals, even animated stuffed animals, and real
    cats, but why so dramatic a difference in response?  Merlin lives
    with (ok, I admit it) over 120 stuffed animals, many of which are
    cat-like (his domain is literally overrun with lions and tigers and
    bears).  He ignores them, even the big ones (Brian Lion is almost three
    feet tall sitting on his haunches).  Even the battery powered ones, who
    walk and talk, merit no more than a glance.  But a *real* kitty,
    smaller than most of the stuffed animals, quieter than the audible ones
    (we have a tiger that growls when you squeeze him, a bear that farts
    when you squeeze him, a seal that barks when you squeeze him, and good
    old AG Bear who talks back as long as his battery's not too tired), a real
    kitty freaks him out.
    
    I'm sure part of it's smell (although old Merlin's nose isn't as
    sensitive as it used to be), but he didn't get much chance to smell the
    kittens before he was off.  I'd be (proudly) surprised if his little
    brain was capable of anticipatory jealousy, justified as it might be.
    
    Hmm, something I must try is to take him out to view the kittens while
    they're sleeping, and see how he reacts to that...
    
    len.
      

    I think there's something about the way young kittens move, that freaks
    out many older cats.  They don't know what that weird creature is. 
    Just give Merlin lots of love and he'll come around.  Also, as the
    kittens grow, they will start acting more "grown-up". ;-)
    
    BTW, how long have you been collecting stuffed animals?  Sounds like an
    incredible collection.  That bear sounds interesting. ;)
    
    Steffi

    Well, Crash (a friend's cat) is afraid of a kitten-like stuffed
    animal that purrs when you move it.  Do you think there's any 
    correlation.  Must be the tiny kitten thing.
    
    Jan (who also has a tiger that growls when you squeeze it)

    
    Boy, I'm starting to feel like a retired elephant auditing first term
    classes at predator school.  You know, all the basics like run, jump,
    attack, climb, leap, fly, wrestle, tackle, claw, bite ...
    
    What an experience - I wouldn't give it up for anything.
    
    My little trio has discovered that the bathtub is a wonderful miniature
    arena for gladiator games.  They have also discovered the BIG litterbox,
    which they now use in preference to their own low profile tray.  I'm
    amazed that they don't mind jumping through the hole in the cover,
    which is over their heads unless they stand up on their hind legs, but
    then they've already been places I never imagined I'd find them.  Their
    climbing and balancing skills are nothing short of extraordinary. 
    
    And they're absolutely fearless, though they're still startled by
    unexpected noises.  They don't quite know what to make of music (I listen
    to a *lot* of classical music), but percussive highlights in stereo provoke
    interesting "what was that?  where did it go?" head gyrations.   Just
    as long as they don't get curious enough to try to climb the grille
    cloths on the speakers...
    
    We continue to make progress on the Merlin front.  The kittens remain
    curious as to what the big guy is all about, and we've advanced to the
    point where I can hold one or two of them up a few feet from him
    and he'll study them for a few moments and then meow.  Too long,
    though, and he gets upset.  So, a little more exposure every day.
    
    My little grey boy's runny eye comes and goes.  Last night I started
    to get worried, as it was quite wet and the conjunctiva was red, so I
    resolved to take him to the vet today, but this morning it had cleared
    up.  He's still sneezing more than I'd like (which is not at all), but
    he's eating well, has unlimited energy, and in general behaves as if
    there's nothing wrong with him.  His sisters still show no signs of
    anything, other than an occasional, much less frequent than his, sneeze.
    Anybody seen anything like this before?
    
    len.
    

    Len since you plan on bringing them to the vets soon anyway...I'd
    definitely make an appointment for the little gray boy.  He sounds
    like he is "fighting" a little cold.....which will most likely
    spread if it comes in full force with atleast the other kittens.
    
    More hugs to Merlin for being a good boy!!!!
    
    Sandy

    
    All three have an appointment for Friday afternoon.  I'm just wondering
    if I should take him in sooner.
    
    Oh, by the way, they're actually 13 weeks old now, not 9 as I thought;
    this puts their first distemper shot at 8 weeks, which is more
    reasonable.
    
    len.
    

    len,

    when my roommate adopted a 5-1/2 month old male from the PB Shelter,
    he developed a respiratory infection just a few days later - could have
    been a cold brewing at the shelter (they had other cats with colds at
    the time) and the stress of moving just brought it to a stronger "head"...

    anyway, he (Lipton) ended up on antibiotics and a decongestant for about
    10 days and during this time, we had to keep him restricted from the other 
    cats so he didn't pass it along - something about the type of problem
    was one that could be passed to other cats but not to our dogs.....

    so I guess my vote is to get the little guy to the vet sooner rather
    than later so he doesn't end up passing anything along to the others.

	just my $.02
	Debbi J

    
    Progress of sorts - Merlin has made a few forays out of the kitchen,
    and has even tolerated having the kittens brought up close enough to
    touch him, but only for a few seconds before the vocalizations start
    to escalate.  The kittens are intensely curious about him, and when he
    starts to get annoyed they look around like "um, was it something I
    said?"  Last night my little grey catboy and my big grey catman had
    an unplanned face to face, and it was wonderful to watch the little guy
    back off ever so slowly, his eyes on Merlin every little step of the way,
    until they were a few feet apart and Merlin felt "safe" enough to walk
    by without saying any more.
    
    Twice now Merlin has headed for the balcony door, as if he's thinking
    "that's a way out".  I explained to him that it was four stories to the
    ground (but he knows that - remember, this is the cat that fell that
    distance and lived to brag about it), and if he was going to run away
    he'd have to catch his own dinner and even though I thought he was a
    pretty tough guy (hey, you have to bend the truth a little) he was
    probably a little too old to adapt to life "on the outside".
    
    The smidgen of a cold remains; though my little grey boy seems to have
    shrugged off most of it, it's passed to one of my little girls.  Same
    very mild symptoms - occasional sneezing, occasionally runny eye (just
    one side).  They're all off to the vet this afternoon.
    
    We tried an experiment with the "clumping" sand-like litter - somehow
    my little grey boy managed to get himself covered with the stuff,
    almost as he had rolled in it.  I caught one of my little girls tossing
    it around (it seems to be more fun to play with than to poop on), so
    maybe that's how he showered himself with it.  But they've shifted over
    to using the "big box" almost completely.
    
    I'll be off the net most of next week, so no news is just that; no
    news.  Next report next Thursday probably.
    
    Got some ideas for names, but nothing solid yet.
    
    len.
       

    
    This week's report:
    
    The kittens made a return visit to the vet yesterday,  They've run
    their course of Albon (deworming medicine) and are almost done with
    their Amoxycillin (for the colds).  They're really good about taking
    oral medications, I think they've begun to accept it as part of being a
    kitten.  No runny eyes anymore, but still a few sneezes, especially
    when they get excited.  They got their 2nd distemper shots, and their
    rabies vaccinations.  They each gained about 0.4 pound in the past week,
    so the grey male weighs in at about 2.7 pounds, the females at about
    2.4 and 2.5.  They're eating voraciously.  One thing I hadn't expected
    (but thankfully can accommodate) is the cost - these three little bundles
    of joy have cost me about $350 in the past two weeks.  The vet expects
    no more visits necessary until spay/neuter time in about 5 and 7 months. 
    
    They've been tentatively named: the grey male Gandalf, the female with
    the ice blue eyes and white feet Bandit, and the female with the sea
    blue eyes and twin white blazes on the underside of her tail Snowflake.
    I can almost tell the two girls apart now at a glance.  Gandalf is a
    lovey dovey sweetie - he loves to throw himself on you and nod off purring
    madly.  His sisters are much more aggressively feline, especially
    Bandit, the fierce jungle beast.  All three of them have oversized
    turbocharged purr engines.  They get into wrestling matches with one
    another regularly now.  They can (and do routinely) jump from the floor
    to 3' high counter tops, an impressive feat.  They've discovered that
    a tub full of water is different from a bowl full of water, but
    nobody's gone swimming yet.
    
    Merlin is still sulking but he only gets upset now when the kittens get
    too close and stay too long.  The rate of progress has slowed but not
    stopped, so I'm still hopeful.  They kittens are *very* curious about
    the big old grey guy.  His sojourns from the counter corner are more
    frequent and longer, and last night I actually managed to get him to
    snuggle with me for about half an hour until the presence of the three
    kittens somewhere on the bed near him was too stressful for him to
    bear.
    
    There are no words to describe how wonderful these kittens are. 
    Everyone who's met them fawns all over them.  I'm especially glad I
    gave in and decided to take Gandalf too.  They have such beautiful
    little faces and affectionate purrsonalities.  I just wish Merlin
    wasn't so put out by them, I almost feel guilty and selfish about
    having forced them on him.  He's definitely stressed out by this
    experience, and he's too old for that.  I can't bear to think of him
    spending the rest of his life hiding in the back corner of the kitchen
    counter.  I miss having him underfoot or on my lap and feel guilty about
    having the kittens there instead, especially since I enjoy them so much.
    I know, I know, it's just a matter of time, but it's impossible for me to
    dismiss the almost three years of single minded devotion to one another
    we had before the kittens came into our lives.
    
    len.
          

    Len...so happy to hear your kittens are doing better!!!   $350 for
    three kittens to have shots and treated for a cold sounds like
    a ridiculous price????   Did this also include a full check-up,
    blood work...or something like that???
    
    I'm no sure how close you live to Lunenburg....but the shelter (I 
    have some too) have spay/neuter certificates that can be used at
    Fallon Animal Clinic (very good vets).   The prices are $38 for 
    female and $25 for males!!  If you live close...it might be worth
    bringing them there when they need to be neuther/spayed!!!  Just
    let me know...and I'll mail you the certificates!
    
    Keep paying alot of attention to Merlin!!!  Give him some special
    time for just him!!!  He'll come around!!
    
    Sandy
    
                                                     
    

    
    The breakdown is like this:
    
    	adoption fee: 3*$50 = 		$150  (Pat Brody Shelter)
    	spay/neuter deposit: 2*$25      $ 50  (Pat Brody Shelter)
          (3 for the price of 2 special) 
    	first office visit, 3 kittens   $ 65  (Westborough Animal Hospital)
    	  (general inspection, URI treatment, "kitty packs")	
    	second office visit,            $ 70  (Westborough Animal Hospital)
    	  (rabies and distemper vaccs)  
        cat food and kitty litter       $ 15
                                        ----
    					$350
    
    While I'm entitled to return of the spay/neuter deposit when I show
    proof of spaying/neutering, I've decided to donate the deposit to the
    shelter.  And don't worry, I am absolutely going to have them spayed/
    neutered.
    
    BTW, Merlin's kidney profile and distemper booster cost me another
    $50; he went in yeterday along with the kittens.
    
    I have used Westborough Animal Hospital for almost 20 years, and am
    very happy with them.  Cost is not an issue.  They're about 2 miles
    from where I live which is extremely convenient.  Lunenberg is about
    35 miles.
    
    At least I don't have to clothe them or put them through college...
    
    len.

    
    I didn't realize you were including the adoption fee and the
    spay/neuter deposit!!  That sounds a better!!  I thought you had
    paid $350 for one office visit for three tiny kittens...which
    I thought was high!!!
    
    It so nice to know our shelter kittens found a DREAM home with
    a wonderful daddy who will take wonderful care of them!!!!  
    
    Sandy
    

    
    This week's report:
    
    Watching the kittens has reimpressed me with just how thin the veneer
    of domestication is over the predator instinct in cats.  At 14 weeks of
    age, these kittens have it almost all down.  All they lack is caution.
    On the offensive, they go straight for the throat.  On the defensive,
    they roll over on their backs and use their hind legs to rake their
    claws over you.  Those same little legs that propel them like jack-in-
    the-boxes on steroids.  They know the sideways walk with the arched back.
    They know how to hide behind things and just peek over enough to see what
    they're tracking.  They know how to move so slowly it's like they're not
    moving at all.  They can follow a fly that I can only hear so unerringly
    that the best way for me to find it is to follow their sightlines.  They
    know how to disappear into hidey-holes when they want to sleep and be
    left alone.  And nobody taught them any of this, they just know it.
    I'm very, very impressed.
    
    And then they run up to me and make their little miaow-squeak noises
    and they're just cuddly little warm bellied furry lovethings.
    
    It's looking like Snowflake will emerge as the "leader of the pack".
    
    They've discovered TV.  They sit entranced in front of it, jump and try
    to catch the moving things on the screen, look behind it to see if
    there's anything back there.
    
    Gandalf has discovered that drapes and window screens are easy to climb.
    All the way to the ceiling, where he tight-rope walks across the curtain
    rod.  The only thing they seem to fear is loud noises (their introduction
    to Mahler will have to be gradual), and all that provokes is a startle
    reaction.
    
    Like when I sneeze.  Now Merlin and I are down with URIs.  I have
    bronchitis, he seems to have caught the kittens' bug, which they're
    pretty much over.  No, neither the vet nor my doctor believes the
    URIs are transmittable across species.  But Merlin's getting 1 cc of
    Amoxycillin suspension twice a day, while I'm gagging down 333 mg. of
    Erythromycin three times a day.  My vet doesn't think Merlin will
    reinfect the kittens now that they're over their "colds".  Whether out
    of cussedness or because of his cold, Merlin's stopped eating, and
    because his kidney numbers were not as good as they might be (blood
    urea nitrogen same as last fall, but creatinine up by about 30%), he's
    back on subcutaneous fluids for the next few days.  He seems to enjoy
    the attention.  He's spending more time out and around, and yesterday
    all four of them were arrayed on various parts of me as we all napped.
    At one point, Bandit even came up and stretched out beside Merlin,
    draping her head over his back.  An historic moment, which lasted for
    considerably more than a moment.
    
    len.
       

    Len - 
    
    ...just read this string, it's a riot.
    
    Too bad there wasn't a way to have Merlin transfer some of his new
    found adaptability to Aja. She won't tolerate as much as a picture 
    of another cat...
    
    Edd (the slightly envious!)

    
    Last night, a breakthrough of sorts.
    
    I pulled Merlin out of his kitchen corner "hideout" to come sit with
    me on the sofa.  A little while later, the kittens showed up. 
    Snowflake climbed up on top of me and slid down onto Merlin, where she
    made herself comfortable.  Not a sound out of him, until they both
    started purring.  After about 15 minutes, she decides she'd rather sit
    closer to the lamp (basking in its warmth), so she gets up and moves a
    foot away.  Bandit comes up and takes her place.  Merlin continues
    purring.  I'm thinking, hallelujah, we're over the last hurdle, we're
    a family now.
    
    Merlin starts to softly meow/growl.  Bandit takes this as her cue to
    get lost.  "What's the matter big guy, run out of patience?"  Nope,
    Bandit walks over his face with no reaction from him.  Aha, it's little
    Gandalf, walking by on the floor.  Merlin must be able to smell him.
    The little girls are ok, but the little boy is still unwelcome.
    
    So close...
    
    Merlin's still just barely eating.  Not even his favorites.  He eats
    a few mouthfuls, then stops.  Nothing apparently wrong with his teeth.
    He seems hungry and pays attention to the can opening ritual, but seems
    to lose interest after a few bites.  His loss of appetite coincides
    with his catching the kittens' FVR, so maybe that's all there is to it.
    He's getting his Amoxicillin twice a day, and has pretty much stopped
    sneezing, so maybe it's just a matter of time, especially if his
    recovery from the URI coincides with his reconciliation with the
    kittens.
    
    After a while the kittens come steal his food, and he watches idly.
    I scold them and take them back to their own bowls, but it's obviously
    more fun to jump up on the counter top and eat like The Big Cat.
    This requires quite a leap - they actually jump up and grab the oven
    door handle, then pull themselves up onto the stove top.  If I hadn't
    seen them do it repeatedly, I wouldn't believe it possible.  There's no
    place that Merlin can get to that they can't get to as well, though it
    may require some derring-do on their part.
    
    The obvious strategy of feeding them first (all the way on the other
    side of my apartment) and giving Merlin his food while they're distracted
    by their own, only works for a little while.  Luckily, they eat so much
    that a little additional geriatric catfood is not going to stunt their
    growth.  "Manual intervention" works only as long as I'm willing to
    baby sit Merlin's bowl.
    
    I don't think he's stealing their food, it's usually all gone within
    a short while of being put out, except for the kibble, which he won't
    touch anyway.   
    
    I know I keep blubbering about this, but these kittens are just so
    wonderful, so beautiful, so affectionate, and now that Merlin's almost
    adapted to them, once we're all better, I'm gonna be one happy
    camper...
    
    len.
    

    Oh Len, "blubber" on!  These updates are wonderful.  So glad Merlin
    loves the girls (it must be love if Bandit can walk on his *face*!). 
    I'm sure it won't be long before he lays out the ground rules for
    little Gandalf, and all will be harmony and radiant contentment.
    
    Leslie

    Len...don't feel bad I always have to play "food guard" while
    I'm feeding my crew!!  They start off so nice and each one has
    there own spot on the floor.  About half way through their meal
    they all get nosey and want to know what the other one is eating!!
    It's like playing "musical cats".
    
    Is it possible to put the kitten in another room while Merlin eats??
    Maybe he is a bit too nervous with these three little guys around..
    to sit down and enjoy a full meal.
    
    I'm so happy to hear Merlin has accepted the girls...and I'm sure
    within time he will accept the other one!!
    
    I love hearing updates...you sound like a very proud daddy.
    
    Sandy

    Len,
    	With Merlin not eating, I think you were referring to his cold and
    not being able to smell it now?  If so, it might be worth trying to
    find something extra-smelly for him or maybe microwaving his food for a
    few secs to see if that could help...

    Len...another suggestion.  Have you tried baby food with Merlin.
    I find whenever mine our not feeling well.....they will still eat
    baby food or very smelly tuna!!
    
    Sandy
    

    
    Thanks for all the suggestions, but we're past the difficult period
    now.  Merlin is eating normally, and his cold has largely cleared up.
    This "coincidence" strongly suggests that the cold (and perhaps
    attendant sore throat?) was the cause of his loss of appetite.  He was
    aggressively treated during his illness (oral antibiotics, antibacterial
    ointment for his eye, subcutaneous fluids every day) and appears to
    have made a strong and full recovery.  We're not backing off yet, just
    to be sure, but we do seem to be "out of the woods".  The folks at
    Westborough Animal Hospital were very supportive and solicitous of him.
    
    I did try baby food, and smelly cat food (salmon), but even that
    wasn't enough to coax him into eating more than a few nibbles.  He'd
    go through the "watch the can being opened" ritual as if he really
    wanted to eat, but once the food was out he'd nibble a bit and just
    walk away.  Hence, my guess is that he really *was* hungry, but eating
    was an unpleasant experience.  I can't see how FVR wouldn't entail some
    kind of throat soreness, and I know I'm not much interested in eating
    with a sore throat.
    
    In contrast, the kittens are regular little eating machines.  Now that
    Merlin's feeling better, he's a little less tolerant of their
    rambunction, but he's no longer cowering on the kitchen counter corner,
    he's out and about as he was before their arrival.  They've learned to
    be careful about getting too close too frequently or for too long, and
    within reasonable limits he seems to accept them as a permanent
    addition to his world.  I'm optimistic that he'll eventually fully
    adopt them.
    
    So, what's new?
    
    The little grey male revealed to us his true name.  His name is Rocky.
    Everyone who's met him agrees that that's obviously really his name.
    He's noticeably larger than his sisters now, even discounting his
    fluffy coat.  He's going to be quite a handsome fellow when he grows
    up.  I can't tell you how glad I am I decided to give in to the impulse
    to take hime home too.  He was very "helpful" this weekend when I
    harvested my Thai pepper plants (I was tempted to break open one of the
    pods so he'd understand that he was literally playing with fire) and
    trimmed the catnip plant, and later when I sorted my laundry.  I'm sure
    you all understand just what sort of "help" he provided.
    
    Speaking of playing with fire - as I noted earlier, the kittens were
    getting up to Merlin's hideout with an assist from the stove handle;
    well, the way the control are laid out, one of the burner controls is
    near the front, and I got up one morning to discover one of the gas
    burners had been turned on!  I frantically inspected the kittens for
    evidence of burns (none found), though Bandit did have a few singe-curled
    whiskers and eyebrows.  It looks like she's going to be the "little
    one" of the trio; she's lankier than her sister, and clearly smaller
    than either Rocky or Snowflake.
    
    The kittens continue to amuse us with their antics though sometimes
    their mad abandon gets to be too much.  One evening, Merlin was
    stretched out on my chest, with his tail naturally draped between my
    legs.  One of the little girls (I don't know which; in the aftermath of
    this "incident" she ran off too quickly to identify) watched the tip of
    his tail twitching until it was too much to resist, and launched
    herself from the other end of the sofa, right into my crotch,
    precipitating a kitten/cat/human explosion.
    
    Snowflake has found her own special place to nap - she climbs up
    amongst a chairful of stuffed animals, kneads the head of one of my
    larger bears for a while, and the nestles down and practically
    disappears.  I'm reminded of the scene from ET when he hides among the
    stuffed animals and dolls.
    
    She's also learned that she can get to her favorite shoulder perch a
    lot more easily than climbing up there by running up to my feet and
    meowing to be picked up.  Who's training whom?  She's the most vocal
    of the three - Rocky makes some weird, almost birdlike noises when he
    gets worked up playing, and Bandit seems pretty much silent except for
    her purring, which like her siblings, is all out of proportion to her
    size.  And in addition to be being the quietest and the smallest, she's
    also proving to be the loner - Rocky and Snowflake play much more
    agressively and frequently with one another than they do with her, and
    she's often the last one to reappear whenever they disappear to
    wherever they go when they want to be left alone.
       
    Again, I would not miss a  moment of this for anything.
    
    len.
    

    Len,
    
    Your furry family sounds wonderful.  I am enjoying all the stories. 
    Don't forget to update your information in the off-line newsletter.  I
    just received mine last week, and noticed that your note stated that
    Merlin was an only cat.  I'm glad that he's adjusting to the kittens.
    
    Steffi

Len,

I also have a gas stove, and have experienced a similar 'happening', although
mine was a result of a leap from the cabinets *over* the stove. I solved that
particular problem (accidental burner ignition) by removing the knobs and 
storing them in the drawer next to the stove.


kathy

    
    No real news this week, other than Merlin's had a mild relapse of his
    URI (probably FVR), and is back on oral and topical antibiotics.  This
    time he's lost his voice, but he's eating and drinking which is always
    a good sign.
    
    The kittens are noticeably bigger.  Rocky has staked out the top of my
    effects rack (an electronic equipment case in my backroom music studio)
    as his favorite napping spot.  The kittens' ability to get into
    "inaccessible" places continues to amaze me.  This is all being
    recorded on film, so there should be a few interesting pictures for the
    next Feliners' Offline Newsletter.
    
    Sandy doesn't like Bandit as a name for such a beautiful little kitten,
    and after many discussions about the appropriateness of mushy-gushy
    names like Precious Little Darling, we've compromised on Robin, because
    her eyes are robin's egg blue.  So I think of her as Robbin' Bandit...
    
    Snowflake is more like a dirty snowball with her tan on white markings,
    so I'm tempted to call her Comet (which astronomers are fond of
    describing as dirty snowballs) but I keep finding myself calling her
    Blueberry (a friend of mine has a blue parakeet named Blueberry), which
    is a good match for her eye color.  I'm also tempted to try to find another
    "Ro..." name to match Rocky and Robin.
    
    Merlin's accommodation of the kittens seems to have plateaued; as long
    as they don't play with his tail or step on his face he'll tolerate
    their presence, even Rocky's.  But the temptation to touch him and play
    with him is too much for the kittens to resist, so we're still having
    the occasional meow/growl.  The kittens have gotten quite brazen about
    stealing his food, right from under him, even after I've fed them
    first.  I pick them up and carry them back to their own bowls, which
    works for a while.  Merlin has several times threatened to steal their
    food (and probably does when I'm not looking or they're not around). 
    There's no place he can get to that they can't get to more easily,
    so the obvious strategies don't work.
    
    Merlin's also a bit put out by the fact that they've taken over his
    spot on the bed.  The kittens wake me up at sunup, usually with Rocky
    licking my face, Robin Bandit curling up in my hair, and Blueberry
    Snowflake making mush paws on my chest and searching for a nipple
    to nurse from.  It's a good thing I love them so much ...  Life with
    Merlin was so simple in comparison.
    
    len.
     
    

    Kittens are truly amazing......keep these updates coming..and give
    Merlin a big hug for being such a good boy!!
    
    A few RO names:
    
       Roly-Poly  
       Rosie
       Rosebud or Rosebush
       Rosemary
    
    
    

    
>    Snowflake is more like a dirty snowball with her tan on white markings,
>    so I'm tempted to call her Comet (which astronomers are fond of
>    describing as dirty snowballs) but I keep finding myself calling her
>    Blueberry (a friend of mine has a blue parakeet named Blueberry), which
>    is a good match for her eye color.  I'm also tempted to try to find another
>    "Ro..." name to match Rocky and Robin.
  
	What about 
	Rocket  
	or
	Royal (blue)

	I love your stories, hope Merlin recovers quickly

	Heather

    
    "Rocket" is already taken, as that's what Rocky's really short for;
    "Rocket J. Kitten", a la "Rocket J. Squirrel".  Blueberry Snowflake
    works for me, I think she's stuck with it now.  Besides, as some famous
    person (Thoreau?) said, "a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of
    little minds"; I don't want to get too deliberate about naming them.  I
    just have to watch out that I don't start calling her Blueberry Pancake...
    
    Merlin's looking better already, but his laryngitic meow is pretty
    pathetic.
    
    It's been interesting to observe the kittens' shifting pairing off.
    Last night I found Robin Bandit snuggling with Rocky up in his "secret"
    lair atop the effects rack.  Blueberry had curled up with me on the
    sofa.  So now I've seen the kittens in all combinations of two at a
    time, playing with one another or sleeping together.  There's no
    permanent "odd man out".
    
    I really wish I had a camcorder to capture all of this.  Ten years from
    now when we're all grown up it'd be fun to look at "home movies".  Hmm,
    maybe I should just rent one...
    
    Watching the kittens also reminds me very strongly of something I've
    noticed before about cats - the diversity of their personalities.  One
    thing that's really struck me is the different sounds they each make;
    Rocky sounds like he was the source for all those weird little blips
    and bleeps from StarTrek episodes; Snowflake meows like a little kitten
    should, and Bandit is silent except for her possessive growling.  Both
    the little girls play "mighty hunter" (one of them found a raccoon tail
    in the toy bin and dragged it out to join the mink tail as "practice
    prey", to be carried around in the mouth.
      
    len.
    

I'd like to suggest Rosin. Its amber colored and you use it on your 
violin bow. It come off the bow , when playing the violin, in a white powdery 
form, ergo Rosin (amber and white).

Regards,
John (& Fred [Mruff [[cat sound]]) Potucek

    
    
    Thanks for all the name suggestions; we seem to have stabilzed on
    Rocky, Robin Bandit and Blueberry Snowflake.
    
    Merlin has recovered from his relapse, but he's continuing on oral and
    topical antibiotics until they're all used up as a precaution.  He's
    also a bit more accommodating of the kittens - his mean-time-to-fed-upness
    increases with each passing day.
    
    The kittens are a joy beyond words.  This morning in bed, with Rocky
    sprawled beside my head, licking my face at every opportunity, and
    Blueberry snuggled up alongside me (under the covers), and Bandit
    stretched out on the pillow above me, with Merlin at the foot of the
    bed, I considered our good fortune, and discussed Holly and Pip and
    Barkley with the kittens and cat.  Holly's story reminds me of my last
    few months with Wabbit; the repeated visits to the vet, the fear that I'd
    come home one day and find her cold and stiff in one of her favorite
    places, and the final days when it was clear that she had just run out
    of time and strength and that the best thing I could do for her was let
    her go peacefully.
    
    One of my best/favorite cat pictures is one I took of Wabbit as a
    kitten, sitting on her haunches at the window, her little feet up on
    the sill, gazing at the big world "out there".  Yesterday afternoon
    I found Blueberry in exactly the same pose, and a lump came into my
    throat and my eyes filled with tears as I remembered Wabbit as a kitten
    19 years ago.  Blueberry and Bandit remind me so much of Monkey and
    Wabbit, and Rocky is so much like Merlin when he was a kitten.  It's
    like reliving some of my most wonderful memories. 
        
    Life goes on.
    
    Our hearts go out to you all.  Remember that there will always be some
    sadness, but it's such a small price to pay for the glory of sharing
    your life with creatures as extraordinary as cats,
    
    len and Merlin, Rocky, Blueberry Snowflake and Robin Bandit.
    

    
    A quick update - the kittens have discovered that they can climb to the
    top of my bookcases.  I don't know how they do it, but it's the first
    place I look now when they're "missing".  They seem to really love
    being up high.
    
    I had the most wonderful dream about Merlin the other morning.  I was
    driving to work, and Merlin was sitting beside me, talking to me.  With
    a prominent "meow accent", he explained to me that he was tired of
    being stuck home all day with the kittens, and so was coming to work
    with me.  At this point I concluded I must be asleep, because not even
    Merlin could meow in English, and if I was asleep at the wheel I'd
    better wake up immediately.  So I did, to discover to my enormous
    relief that I was still home in bed.
    
    len.
    
    

    Len,
    
     I really needed that last note today! I'm having a rough day, and your
    note just cheered me up totally! 
    
     Don't ever stop giving us updates. It's always a great part of my day.
    I like the way you write. Always makes me smile, no matter what!
    
    Yonee

    I'll second that. I always look forward to your (Len's) notes.
    
    Steffi

    Me, three.  It's comforting to know my husband and I aren't the only
    ones bonkers about our cats.  And to hear about the concerns and the
    love you have for Merlin is wonderful.  Tai is only 12-13 yrs. and has
    myoc (?) can't spell but its a heart problem.  My husband who is
    retired makes sure he gets his medication on time, watches his appetite
    and attitude to be alert to any changes.  Tai is so laid back his
    favorite position (except between us in a kingsize bed), is flat on his
    back with paws extended, fast asleep.  He has let us take in two
    different strays (we still have one) and has played "Big DaddY to both. 
    When we travel we have a vet's assistant to stop 3 times daily to take
    care of all our geriatric animals.  It's expensive but we figure that
    expense is part of our trip.  They have known him for 6-8 years and
    have been relaxed when we return...well Tai ignores us for a while to
    make us pay for being away, but after 24 hours, all is forgiven and
    he's back being a lapcat.  Keep on writing. 

    Having known len for quite a few years now, it comes as no surprise to
    me to find he "logics" his way thru dreams. ("I'm driving...the cat's
    talking...if the cat's talking I must be asleep...wait, I can't drive
    while I'm asleep!")
    
    Keep the updates coming, len. I have to meet these wee beasties...
    
    Edd

    
    Not much new, just a lot more of the same.
    
    The kittens seem to be about twice the size they were when they came
    home with me six weeks ago (is that all it's been?)  Rocky in
    particular is getting hefty.  Their purrsonalities are also becoming
    quite distinctive.  Here's a wrapup of everything I've learned about
    them. 
    
    Robin Bandit is the little one.  She's the most Siamese-like in terms
    of her body shape - she's very lithe, with a wedge shaped head.  She
    never talks, but she (like both her siblings) has an enormous purr
    engine, and when she plays mighty hunter (which she loves to do), she's
    got the most amazing growl.  She's also the most independent.  She can
    be very affectionate, but only when *she* wants to.  She'll come sit
    on my lap or stretch out on my chest, but she generally prefers not to
    be picked up.  She's got the prettiest big robin's egg blue eyes (which
    seem especially large given the shape and size of her face), a tabby
    coat pattern broken up into mackeral speckles (of light tan against an
    off white background), with white mittens and boots.  Her tail is a
    very dark (charcoal) brown with a white underside.  Her coat is the
    coarsest of the three.  Her nose leather (like her sister's) is brick
    red with a black outline.
    
    Blueberry Snowflake is the mid-sized kitty.  She's got a rounder head
    than Robin or Rocky, and her eyes are a beautiful crystalline sky blue.
    She regularly asks to be picked up, and she can't resist climbing up on
    my shoulders and wrapping herself around my neck.  If I bend over for
    any reason, the next thing I know she's up on my back.  She loves to
    snuggle under things (more so even than cats do as a rule); many mornings
    I wake up to find her asleep under the covers down by my feet.  Her coat
    pattern is faint bullseyes on both sides.  Her tail is charcoal brown
    like her sister's, but with two white blazes that wrap around from the
    bottom on each side.  Her coat feels softer than her sister's, and with
    her stockier build she feels like a little cotton ball.  She plays mighty
    hunter too.  She and Robin love to bring me their prey and play with it
    around my ankles.  My legs look like I've been walking barefoot through
    a bramble...  Biting my toes through my socks is another favorite pastime.
    
    Rocky is all grey, with little olive colored eyes.  His head is wedge
    shaped and with his fluffy ruff he has a very fox like look, but from the
    side his profile is very leonine.  His nose leather is grey.  His coat
    is very open, angora-like, with white hairs scattered sparsely throughout.
    He's the most agressively affectionate of the three.  He doesn't ask to
    be picked up, he throws himself down at your feet, or if you're sitting
    or lying down he throws himself on you.  He only vocalizes when he gets
    excited, and then he makes weird Star-Trek bridge sound effects noises.
    He loves to lick your face, and in doing so he sometimes sneaks his
    little tongue into your mouth or nose.  This can be a bit disconcerting.    
    
    I can't pick anyone one of them up without kissing them and telling
    them how beautiful they are and how glad I am our paths crossed.  Each
    one is my favorite.
    
    Their latest game is "help Daddy".  Help Daddy clean the litter box.
    Help Daddy make the bed.  Help Daddy read the newspaper.  Help Daddy
    watch TV.  Help Daddy change the CD.  Help Daddy feed Merlin.  Help
    Daddy water the plants.  Help Daddy take a shower.  Help Daddy take
    a bath.  Help Daddy shave.  Help Daddy brush his teeth.  Help Daddy
    use the toilet.
    
    This last has resulted in some amusing incidents.  I can't find any
    graceful way to describe this, but the moment I sit down on the toilet
    seat, there's a kitten in my pants...  I'm sure their little brains
    think it's a wonderful nest, nice and warm and funky smelling.
    
    Merlin has come to watch all this with a sort of detached bemusement.
    Now that he's getting the greatest part of the lap and chest time, he
    only gets upset when the kittens are too agressive about playing with
    his tail.  Of course, when they do he just switches it harder, making
    it that much more interesting to the kittens.  Ths kittens have become
    remarkably sensitive to the sound of his voice.  Once it crosses the
    "I'm annoyed" threshold, they freeze and back off.  It's hilarious to
    watch them try to get him to play with them, they want so badly to,
    but they're so careful and tentative.
    
    We've gotten to the point where he'll let one, sometimes two of them
    sleep near him (i.e., within inches), but he still draws the line at
    actual physical contact.  He's even let them eat from his bowl at the
    same time as him, though usually they wait until he's done before they
    steal his food.
    
    He seems so big compared to the kittens.  I don't think I'll ever forget
    that dream, it was so great to hear him talk with a "meow accent".
    
    len.
    
    

    
    One thing that just occurred to me.  Way back at the beginning of this
    thread I mentioned that Merlin started talking incessantly when Wabbit
    left us, and that I interpreted this as a manifestation of loneliness
    or "fear of leaving too" (anthropomorphizing outrageously), and that
    I was considering getting him some playmates so he didn't feel so
    lonely.  What I didn't add was "so he'll stop talking so much", which,
    while precious for a while, got to be a bit trying.
    
    Well, Merlin has indeed stopped talking all the time.  Now he just
    talks when he's got something to say (like, "I'm coming to work with
    you..."  ;^)  ).  He's "normal" again, like he was when Wabbit was
    around.
    
    len.
     

    I had the distinct pleasure of meeting these three casts last night,
    and they're everything len makes them out to be; cute, smart, overly-
    energetic, curious, etc.
    
    Rocky is one of the most affectionate cats I've seen in years. (My
    data biased by 10 years with the aloof aja.) I picked him up and
    immediately became his best_friend_of_the_moment.
    
    ...the "synchronized paw strikes" had me rolling.
    
    Edd 

    
    A note of explanation - the "syncronized paw strikes" Edd refers to
    occurred when I took out the kittens' absolutely most favorite toy, one
    of those flexible wands with the mylar streamers on the end.  Though
    only one of the kittens had followed me into the bedroom (I keep the
    thing hidden in a dresser drawer, otherwise the kittens destroy it, as
    they already have twice), but the moment the mylar streamers started
    making their rustling noise, the other two came running, full bore.
    At one point, they were sitting on the bed and I had the streamers
    circling them in a tight, fast orbit.  Their little heads spun around
    tracking it, as far as they could, then they'd snap back to the other
    side to repeat for the next pass.  Then the paws came up, trying to
    catch it.  All perfectly synchronized.  TV commercial cute.
    
    Rocky can be charitably described as indiscriminate, uncharitably as a
    slut.  A terrible word to use for a kitten, maybe, but if you met him
    you'd have to say, "well, yeah".  I thought the affection he showed for
    me at the cat show and later in the shelter was special, but it's clear
    now that Rocky loves whoever's holding him.  (But I'll still go on
    believing there's something special about me.)  And now, if the ladies
    will avert their gaze and cover their ears, I'll note that I tactfully
    neglected to report last week that Rocky has experienced his first
    glimmerings of sexual awakening.  He was washing his, uh, private parts
    with considerable enthusiasm one evening, so I checked to see if he
    needed some help cleaning up what we affectionately refer to as "doodoo
    buns".  Nope.  If he could talk, he would have said, proudly, "Look
    Daddy, I've got a boner!"  So, indiscriminate and precocious to boot.
    So far, he doesn't seem to have figured out that his sisters are
    "different", but I'm certainly going to keep tabs on this until
    everybody's altered.
    
    Blueberry is learning about large bodies of water (well, bodies of water
    larger than her) the hard way.  She's slipped into the toilet once, and
    into the tub once.  Both times she managed to escape with only her
    hindquarters soaked, which must have required some kind of levitation.
    The notion of a surface that you can see but that won't support your
    weight is a little too counterintuitive for her yet.  Neither Rocky nor
    Robin seems to have the same fascination for water that Blueberry does.
    
    Speaking of hindquarters, the "rev up your hindquarters before you
    attack" behaviour is now emerging.  And there's a lot of attacking
    going on.  The kittens are playing very aggressively with one another,
    with everybody equally on the attacker and attackee ends of things.
    Every now and then one of them thinks Merlin will make a fine attackee,
    but he quickly disabuses them of such fantasies.  If a growl/meow
    doesn't suffice, a few whacks to the head do.  I'm gratified that
    Merlin is willing to keep his claws sheathed for such encounters, and
    not put his whole weight behind his swipe.
    
    The bathtub is now their favorite play area.  They've discovered that
    if they bring their "play prey" into the tub, they can toss it around
    with abandon and it doesn't get lost!  Rocky has adopted his own
    favorite prey - a little red wool pompom that used to have antennae and
    eyes.  The girls prefer the raccoon and mink tails, but like them Rocky
    now plays Mighty Hunter and Fierce Jungle Beast, strutting around
    carrying his dead alien in his mouth, growling threateningly.  He even
    once offered it to Merlin by leaving it in his food bowl, perhaps thinking
    this would ingratiate him with The Big Cat.  
    
    In addition to cat food and kitty litter, I'm going through film at an
    amazing rate - the kittens present almost continual wonderful "photo ops",
    and those are just the ones I'm around for.  And of those, so many are
    here and gone in a moment.
    
    In another life, I used to fly model rockets, and did a lot of model
    rocket photography.  Other rocketeers used to ask how I managed to get
    so many great lift off shots, when all they got was a smoke trail with
    the rocket out of the frame.  "My kittens trained me".
    
    len.
    
     

    
    
    	len,
    
    	I do love your stories....keep them coming!
    
    	giggle....giggle....giggle...
    
    	JJ
    

    
    And now, our weekly episode of "Kitten Chronicles".
    
    Rocky's endearing habit of throwing himself on your feet is proving to
    be an occasional liability.  He's gotten stepped on twice now, despite
    the fact that they've trained me to "look all ways" before moving.  No
    harm done, but he's learning to make more cat-like noises than his cute
    little Star Trek burblings.
    
    Rocky also seems to be mounting a major campaign to be adopted as
    Merlin's little buddy.  I'm sure I'm reading more into this than is
    really there, but it's truly touching to see him sleeping in Merlin's
    "sanctuary" on the kitchen counter.  Last night he brought his play
    prey up to Merlin and dropped it at his feet.  Grumpy old Merlin just
    ignored it, like "Sorry, kid, I don't do this stuff any more." 
    Sometimes Rocky (and his sisters) are wary of the old guy, sometimes
    they try to coax him into playing.  But mostly he tries to ignore them,
    which is an improvement over cowering in fear of them, but...
    
    The bathtub "arena" has also become a nice place to nap.  The kittens
    make an incredible amount of noise in the tub, so when it quieted down
    I went to see what sort of silent mischief they'd gotten themselves
    into to find the three of them sacked out side by side in the tub.
    Out came the camera.
    
    They've also dicsovered that they can "participate" in a shower without
    getting wet by sitting on the rim of the tub between the outer curtain
    and the inner liner.  I slid back the curtain one morning to find their
    three little faces looking up at me and couldn't help but laugh out loud.
    
    (I'm sure anybody eavesdropping on my apartment would conclude some
    kind of lunatic lived there).
    
    Their other favorite bathroom game, now a several-times-a-day thing,
    is digging through (and usually knocking over) the bathroom wastebasket
    and unearthing all sorts of wonderful playthings.  Q-tips seem to be a
    special favorite.  It's gotten so that before anything goes into the
    bathroom wastebasket it first gets evaluated as a potential kitten toy.
    
    Robin has long had a favorite spot on my general purpose covered with
    junk table (where my PC/VCR/TV are also located, and thus where I often
    sit), right under the ceiling lamp.  This area has been specially
    prepared for her with a layer of bubble pack, which I guess she finds
    especially comfortable to lie on.  (Do you other cat lovers ever find
    yourself explaining certain unusual arrangements in your home as a
    concession to the cats and getting strange looks from your guests?) 
    Anyway, Rocky and Blueberry have both adopted this spot too, but
    Rocky's added his own unique twist; he's developed some strange
    obsession with the hanging lamp fixture (the "globe" is a very
    elaborate, organic-like plastic sculptured thing) which he tries
    (sometimes successfully) to reach by standing up on his hind legs and
    stretching out as tall as he can.  I have pictures...  Of course,
    once he grabs it (his claws just reach the bottom ring that holds it
    all together), it swings, and Rocky swings with it.  And of course, 
    with all the junk piled up on this table, some of it inevitably gets
    knocked over and slides off the table (like video tapes and boxes of
    floppy discs), precipitating a "I told you not to do that" Daddy-fit.
    Worse, Rocky tries to climb up on the highest pile so he can *jump*
    and catch the fixture.  I shudder to imagine what goes on when I'm not
    around, but the evidence (or lack of same) suggests this hasn't (yet)
    gotten out of hand.  But I wonder what will happen as he gets older.
    And bigger.
    
    The kittens have also discovered there's a world outside the front
    door.  It's actually not much of a world, just a long corridor, but
    they've managed to sneak out twice now.  Malone, the year old Maine Coon
    who lives down the hall, occasionally prowls the corridor, and his
    owner says he often stops and sits at my front door.  I sometimes find
    Robin sitting at the door, as if waiting for Malone to call on her.
    I feel like a nervous dad with a teenage daughter who's developed a
    crush on the local highschool football captain.
    
    They also managed to escape onto the balcony.  I usually leave the
    sliding glass doors open during the day so they can get some fresh
    non-recirculated-all-day-air-conditioned air, but there's a small hole
    in the screen, which I've been covering with a just-the-right-size-and-
    shape piece of brain coral.  Hey, you know, whatever works.  A
    souvenir from a vacation in Aruba.  Which happened to be conveniently
    located.  Anyway, one morning I forgot to cover the hole (which I'd
    done a half, uh, baked job of patching), and when I got home the kittens
    were out on the balcony, mewing plaintively because they couldn't get
    back in.  The hole was just big enough for them to squeeze through, but
    having done so, the edges now pointed the wrong way for them to go
    through the other way.  I breathed a sigh of relief that nobody'd gone
    bungee jumping without a bungee (like Merlin had many years back), and
    resolved to fix the screen for real ASAP, and in the meantime, *never
    forget the brain coral*!  
    
    Finally, the kittens have developed to a high art the game of "who can
    use the fresh litter box first".  Merlin and Wabbit (and Monkey too,
    back so many years ago) would always use the box soon after it had been
    changed, but the kittens come running as soon as they hear me start
    working on it (they also love to "help" me scoop the poop before it's
    time to change the whole batch).  They sit patiently until the box is
    cleaned and then jump in, waiting for the new litter to be poured.
    Even while it's being poured one of them will start, uh, using it. 
    
    But best of all, I still wake up every morning to find all four of them
    sleeping on top of/beside/near me.  The kittens get told how wonderful
    it is that we found one another, and Merlin gets asked "aren't they
    just the most beautiful little things?" and I could go on and on and
    on, and frequently do.

    len.
    

    Len,
    
    Those kittens sound sooo precious.  They are very lucky to have found
    you.  Please send some of those pictures to Karen Kolling for our
    off-line newsletter.  They could be the cover cats.
    
    Keep those stories coming.
    
    Steffi

    I think we should force Len to host the next FELINERs East Coast       
    gathering, so we can all meet the gang! Whaddaya think Len? ;-)
    
    Love,
    
     Yonee

    
    Much as I'd love to host such an event, once you saw my place you'd
    understand why it's impractical.
    
    There's no place to sit.  There are only a few places to stand.  What's
    supposed to be the master bedroom is part library (floor to ceiling
    bookcases covering the walls), part recording studio (racks of
    electronic gear filling half the room) and projection room (a six foot
    wide screen at one end and a projector and more carousels and boxes of
    slides than you've ever seen anywhere at the other end.
    
    The living room is overrun by stacks of books (which don't fit in the
    library anymore) and magazines and stuffed animals and records and CDs
    etc..  There's a couch and a chair and that's it.   There are "aisles
    between the piles".  It must feel like Grand Canyon from the kittens'
    perspective.
    
    The small bedroom (where we sleep) has remained relatively clear, but
    I've had to install two large bookcases in there and it too is overrun
    with stuffed animals.
    
    I've lived here almost twenty years and ran out of space long ago.
    Moving to a bigger place would be such a job that I just refuse to
    think about it.
    
    Needless to say, the kittens love it.  Lots of things to climb and
    places to hide.  But for big people it's a bit crowded.
    
    But maybe they can go out one night.
    
    len.
    

    Well..... OK Len, we'll let you off the hook! ;-) But, when we fianlly
    do have a gathering, you'd better be there, and you'd better have LOTS
    of pics of your gang! 8-) 
    
    Also, in theh meantime, keep those kiten/Merlin stories coming. They
    have picked up many a bad day for me. You write very well, so your
    stories have me cracking up in my office causing yet more strange looks
    from my neighbors! ;-)
    
    Love,
    
    Yonee

    
    A few new experiences for the kittens:
    
    Their first thunderstorm - they were fascinated.  As the wind picked up
    they ran to the balcony door to watch.  Blueberry begged for a lift to
    my shoulder, where she stood up with her little paws against the screen
    door to get an even better view.  When the rain and lightning and
    thunder started, they just couldn't see enough.  I had to pick up
    Robin and Rocky so they could see it all too.
    
    Their first can of "real" tuna fish.  Hmm, what's this?  Smells like
    the stuff we usually eat.  Maybe better.  Hmm, tastes much better,
    Hmm.  Daddy can we have more?  We'll go steal Merlin's.  Oh, he gets
    real chicken.  That's OK, that's pretty good too...
    
    And actually, they don't seem like kittens any more, they seem like
    little cats.  They're only 20 weeks old, but they're *so* big.  They
    now have very distinct personalities, and each has uniquely endearing
    peculiarities.
    
    Rocky, who just can't kiss me enough, especially in bed in the morning,
    slobbers.  Maybe enough to call it drool.  He's a very *wet* kisser.
    
    Blueberry now knows she has trained me - ask and ye shall be picked up.
    She's getting very vocal, and her little kittenish mews are heart-
    rendingly compelling.  If I don't pick her up, she climbs up to some
    convenient vantage point and leaps to my shoulder.  Sometimes she does
    so without asking, which can be a real surprise.  If she continues to
    do this as she gets older and bigger, I'm going to have a real problem.
    
    Robin loves to have her head - just her head - petted.  She also seems
    to be the most contemplative (and maybe the smartest) of the three, so
    it's almost as if she needs her head petted to soothe her hyperactive
    little brain.  She looks at you with those big blue eyes, and you can
    almost hear her think, "you know, I could be a person too if I wasn't
    stuck in this little cat body".  She knows there's an outside; she sits
    in the window and studies it, or sits at the front door, maybe hoping
    that Malone will come and open it for her.  She knows the wand-with-the-
    mylar-streamers is hidden in Daddy's dresser drawer (yes, she knows
    exactly which one, too), so she sits looking up at it wondering how to
    get it open.  Whenever I open one of the drawers, she's suddenly there
    watching, as if trying to see how it's done.  She follows me around,
    content just to be nearby, not wanting to picked up or held.
    
    I caught Robin and Merlin rubbing noses the other day.  She's probably
    the easiest for him to accept because she's so low key.  Unlike Rocky,
    who wants so badly to be accepted by The Big Cat that he gets obnoxious
    about it.  
    
    Oh how I love these little creatures...
    
    len.
    

   Len,

  I know what you mean about the first thunderstorm fascination - Missy &
  Patches will be 6 months old next week and the two of them just SAT at
  the deck doors the other night, watching all the goings-on - you could
  almost *see* their little minds trying to figure out how to catch the
  rain drops streaming down the glass !!!!!!!!!!!!

  I love reading your "updates" - your three and their antics (along
  with Merlin) remind me so much of our household - we went from one older
  (soon to be 16) year old cat to FIVE cats, now ranging from 6 months (two),
  almost 9 months (1), just over 1 year old (1) and the 16 year old !!!!
  The funniest part is that we went from 2 to 5 in the course of just 1 week-
  adopted Lipton (the almost 9 month now) from the Pat Brody Shelter one
  week - went back the next week and brought home Missy & Patches !!!!!!!!!!

  They're SO much fun, now that they all get along so well !!!!!!!!!!!!
  Now if I could just find the extra funds to get all the FILM developed !!!!

    The kittens continue to find new ways to amuse, amaze and annoy me.

    In the annoyance category, Blueberry has discovered that the stuff inside
    Kleenex boxes comes out and can be shredded and spread all over.  Also,
    it can be wadded up inside the box into a big lump.

    Robin has decided that the tastiest thing around to chew on is the *top*
    of the living room table lamps' shades.  This requires her to stand up
    on her hind legs and stretch out long enough to get her mouth over the
    top of the shade.  It also means that once so far, she's toppled the lamp.
    Luckily it ended up leaning on the sofa so neither it nor my precious
    little beauty got broken.  When I catch her doing this (the crunch of the
    shade under her teeth is unmistakeable), she gets picked up and mildly
    scolded, but I always feel like such an ogre berating this adorable little
    animal, especially when she looks up at me with those big blue eyes as if
    to say "But Daddy my teeth itch and the lampshade feels just right".

    Last night when I went to change their litter box, we played the usual
    "who gets to 'go' first" game, but with a new twist.  When I picked up
    the bag of litter to open it and fill the box, the bag was leaking from
    multiple "wounds".  A check of the other bags in the stash showed them to
    have also been slashed.  It seems I made the mistake of assuming there was
    nothing interesting about a bag of litter to the kittens.  Well, actually,
    it wasn't the litter bag itself, but the plastic grocery bag the litter
    bag came home in.  The kittens love to play with the bags, and in so doing
    trash the litter bags.  Just like when they wrestle with their play prey
    around my legs (which seems to be their favorite place to do so, to show me
    how well they're practicing their Fierce Jungle Beast and Mighty Hunter
    skills), my feet and ankles end up getting trashed as a "side effect".
    Henceforth, the litter stash is hidden in a cabinet, at least until they
    figure out how to open the doors, which I know is coming.  Wabbit used
    to do it all the time.

    They continue to steal Merlin's food, despite my best efforts, which
    include feeding them first (but they ignore their own food unless they're
    very hungry), and standing guard while Merlin eats (tedious, because he
    prefers to eat a little, then go drink a little (but not from a water bowl
    next to his food bowl), then rest a little, and come back for the next
    course a little while later, etc...).  They've even gotten bold enough to
    steal his food while he's eating, and they're big enough now that I can't
    pick up all three at the same time.  Take one away and the next one just
    moves in.  So I've resorted to only giving Merlin "one sitting's worth" of
    food at a time, or covering his bowl with aluminum foil while he's not
    there.  This worked for a while, as the kittens seemed intimidated by the
    shiny rattley stuff.  But now they know it's no big deal, and gleefully
    shred the foil to get at the food.

    Last night (last night was a big night for kitten fun) while Merlin and
    I were sitting in the living room I heard a loud noise from the kitchen.
    When I went to investigate, I found all three kittens licking their chops
    and washing their faces, with Merlin's bowl and the shredded foil knocked
    to the floor.
      
    Rocky has led the pack for the past few days with interesting experiences.
    I caught him on the stove one day, looking up into the ventilator fan
    and trying to reach it,  He was hearing voices from the kitchen in the
    apartment above us, carried through the ducting.

    His encounters with Merlin are also getting more exciting.  Rocky's now
    feeling sure enough of himself that a growl or a few whacks from Merlin
    are tolerable and as long as Merlin doesn't shriek or spit, Rocky will
    stand his ground.  A few days ago he decided to take Merlin on "mano a
    mano" and tried a bear hug attack, walking upright on his hind legs with
    his front paws flailing like a miniature grizzly bear.  A moment later
    he came to his senses and bolted before Merlin could react.

    I'm sure you've all seen those "kitty flier" toys - the bundle of feathers
    on a swivel clip at the end of a string attached to a long wand?  We've
    been through several, and all that's left of one is the plastic hub with
    the broken shafts of the feathers sticking out a fraction of an inch.  But
    it's still one of their favorite play prey.  I find it in my shoes, in
    my bed, once I even found it in my undershorts (I kept wondering what was
    sticking me in my butt) after Blueberry decided to play with it in my pants
    while I was sitting on the toilet (hey, this is all between friends,
    right?)  Anyway, while the tub was filling for a relaxing soak, I saw Rocky
    run by with his tail streaming water.  When I caught up with him, it turned
    out he was soaked, and must have fallen in the tub.  Sure enough, when
    I went into the bathroom to get a towel to dry him, there was water all
    over the floor, and Robin was sitting on the edge of the tub, reaching
    in.  Trying to retrieve the black plastic hub, now under six inches of
    water, and apparently not having learned anything from Rocky's wading
    lesson.
    
    By the way, Rocky's developing quite a magnificent tail.  It's long and
    bushy like a squirrel's or a fox's.

    While I haven't caught Rocky, uhm, further exploring his reproductive
    paraphernalia since his discovery of a few weeks back, it's clear
    something hormonal is going on in his little male brain.  Last night he
    was chasing Blueberry up and down the apartment, when she decided to stop
    abruptly for a visit with me.  Rocky, running flat out, ran right into
    her and got a faceful of Blueberry's, uhm, hindquarters.  He looked up
    at me with this dazed expression on his face, his tongue hanging out,
    as if to ask, "Gosh Daddy, what was *that*?".

    But the winner of last night's prize for silliest kitten was Robin, who
    must have gotten into a tug of war with one of the other kittens over the
    raccoon tail.  I heard her growling and hissing (as noted before, just
    amazing sounds coming from this petite little beauty) at Rocky and looked
    over to see her with this fuzzy brown moustache!  She was carrying a short
    piece of the raccoon tail in her mouth, and she looked like a kitten
    wearing one of those fake moustache disguise kits.  And yes, I think I
    was able to get it on film.

    len.
    

    Hmm, Len, I was going to suggest the old squirt-bottle-full-of-water
    trick to deter the 3 meal-stealers from gobbling up poor Merlin's food,
    but when you started to tell about the batchtub scene, I'm not so sure
    a little water would deter them!
    
    But it *is* a lot easier to do than try to grab 3 bundles of slippery
    fur!
    
    (wait until they discover toilet paper on the roll....  ;^)

    
    I think I may be safe on the TP threat - they seem to have discovered
    it and passed on it as not sufficiently amusing.  Why this little black
    plastic thing keeps them engaged for hours but the toilet paper roll is
    of no interest is beyond my comprehension.
    
    But I couldn't squirt them, I'd never be able to live with myself.  The
    fact that I've got two SuperSoakers doesn't enter into the consideration,
    of course...
    
    len.
     

Len,

Have they gotten their heads stuck in the kleenex boxes yet?

kathy

    
    No, but I can see it coming...  They've tried to get into just about
    everything else, and Blueberry is a real "caver", she loves to hide in
    dark enclosed places.
    
    len.
    

    BUT - think of Merlin.  (I'm especially sensitive to this because we
    had an elderly cat who reacted badly change of any sort - if you even
    moved the furniture he'd show his displeasure by barfing in the room
    you had rearranged and then sulking for weeks).  
    
    You don't have to squirt them in the face - I wouldn't even do that. 
    But I just get the feeling that poor Merlin is getting pushed out of
    his domain inch by inch, and the kittens are just taking over.  So I
    was trying to suggest ways in which you might be able to help protect
    Merlin's feed dishes from being raided by the 3 musketeers.  
    
    I'm
    probably reading way too much into this, because I know that my elderly
    kitty would have probably literally startved himself to death had we
    introduced 3 new animals into the house, and then given over the vast
    amount of attention that kittens demand to them.  Raiding the food
    bowls would have put him over the edge.  The older kitties just don't
    adjust like the younger ones do.
    
     you know the siuation better than I.
    
    Dana
    

    
    
    I appreciate your concern, but please understand that I think of (and
    cater to) Merlin all the time, and he's no pushover now that he's gotten
    used to the kittens' presence.
     
    He retaliates by stealing their food too, but since he's 18 and has tired
    kidneys, that protein rich kitten formula is really not good for him.
    So he's not starving, and the kittens are certainly not pushing him out
    of his domain.  Merlin is unquestionably The Big Cat, he goes where he
    wants and the kittens defer to him.  But I do wish I could more easily
    keep the kittens on their diet and Merlin on his.  He *is* getting his
    share of his food, and the kittens are mostly eating their stuff, but
    it's no longer as easy as just putting the right food in the right
    bowl.  Squirting the kittens seemed like an unnecessarily harsh
    solution.  Besides, knowing them, it probably wouldn't work. 
    
    Be that as it may, Merlin's laryngitis has returned, so we were off to
    the vet again yesterday.  That damn URI is tough to get rid of completely
    (in fact, because it's a herpes virus, you actually can't *ever* get rid
    of it completely), but I caught this early enough that the vet is not
    worried.  So he gets his dropperful of amoxycillin twice a day, and an
    antihistamine tablet twice a day (to dry up his post nasal drip, which
    has probably given him a sore throat).  But he's eating and drinking, and
    has no fever, and in general seems pretty healthy, so he's just temporarily
    unable to shout down the kittens when they get too playful.
    
    Speaking of vocalizing, I forgot to mention something that the kittens
    have been doing for weeks now.
    
    They leave me "messages" on my answering machine.
    
    The machine has an annotation feature, that allows you to record a
    remark on the incoming message tape.  It's easily activitated by a
    button on the top of the machine.  The kittens rigorously implement a
    policy of "never go around anything you can go over", so every now and
    then they walk on the answering machine and just happen to hit the
    "memo" button.  So I come home to find a half hour message which
    consists of long periods of silence punctuated by rustles and thumps. 
    Sometimes it follows a cutoff message from a real caller - when the
    machine activates, the kittens come running and, hearing a voice inside
    the machine, prod at it and invariably hit one of the control buttons.
     
    len.
    

    
    
    	len,
    
    	I absolutely LOVE your stories!!  I sit here in fits of 
    	hysterics and people wonder if they're going to have to
    	lock me up.  =)
    
    	JJ
    

    
    Things have pretty much settled into a routine, as much of a routine as
    three kittens can provide.
    
    Merlin's got his voice back, but he blows his top at the kittens hardly
    at all anymore.  He even tolerates Rocky, but Rocky takes this to mean
    it's ok to try to play with Merlin, and it's whackwhackwhackshriek
    time again.
    
    Merlin loves to be combed, but for the kittens the comb is just another
    weirdly shaped toy, so combing Merlin has turned into an interesting
    event...  Use your imagination.
    
    Rocky's tail seems to get bigger and fluffier every day.  He's gonna be
    a real hunk.
    
    Robin fell in the tub last night, all the way.  After getting home late
    and then having to do 5 loads of laundry (in addition to not having to
    worry about maintaining the grounds and replacing appliances and stuff
    like that, apartment living features symmetric multiprocessing of
    laundry), a long hot soak seemed liek a great idea.  I turned my back
    for a moment (after warning the kittens to be careful not to fall in)
    and I hear "splash...thud...ta-dum-ta-dum-ta-dum-ta-dum..." and Robin
    came running by streaming water from everywhere.  She didn't much like
    being soaked, but she didn't much like being towel dried either.  And
    of course, as soon as I got in, all three of them lined up on the edge
    of the tub.  And of course, Blueberry, who likes to sit on my shoulder,
    figured why should the tub make any difference?
    
    It's hard to find words to describe how much joy these little critters
    have brought into my life, and how much I love them.  If anything,
    they've even deepened my affection for Merlin, which was already almost
    unbounded.  Every now and then someone asks me, "which one's your
    favorite?", and I can only answer honestly, "whichever one I'm
    holding".  They're each so uniquely beautiful, and as their
    personalities develop, uniquely adorable.  I'm just so happy that our
    paths crossed at that show in Boxborough, and that I couldn't resist
    them (and especially that I decided to take Rocky too).
    
    Sometimes I wonder about Shamrock, their mother, and about what's
    happened to the other two kittens in her litter.
    
    len.
    

    Not much new to report.  The kittens just keep getting bigger, Rocky
    in particular.  Merlin seems to have pretty much accommodated to them;
    he tolerates them unless they get in his way.  Amusingly, he sometimes
    confuses *me* with the kittens - if I'm petting him and stroke his tail,
    and he thinks it's one of the kittens, he complains (with a sort of growly
    meow).  Rocky still tries to "play" with him every now and again, but
    Merlin's not much interested in being preyed on.  But Merlin lets the
    kittens sleep with him, and I even caught Blueberry washing his tail.

    Rocky's lost the white hairs scattered sparsely through his coat, and
    Robin has lost her mackeral spotting.  The face markings on both the girls
    seem to be getting a little darker.

    Robin has become very solicitous of affection.  She's still the silent
    one of the three, but otherwise her siamese parentage has become very
    obvious; while Rocky gets stockier, she gets lankier, and with her spots
    gone her coloration has become even more siamese-like.  Though she mostly
    doesn't like being picked up, she's almost always nearby, and she follows
    me around.  Lately she's the one sleeping on my chest when I wake up,
    the first face I see in the morning.  Rocky and Blueberry have taken to
    sleeping elsewhere.

    Now that they're all getting bigger, the side effects of their playing are
    also getting bigger.  More stuff gets knocked over.  When I scolded Rocky
    for getting overly rambunctious, the poor little guy took it so seriously
    that he exiled himself to the neighborhood of the litter box for the next
    two days.  I had to keep retrieving him until he figured it was ok to hang
    around the people part of the apartment.

    Rocky gets especially excited at can opening time; all I have to do is call
    "C'mon Rocky, num-nums" and he races flat out to the "kitty-mess" (though
    Robin understands what it means too, and she can outrun him; I've learned
    to walk slowly and carefully to the spare bathroom where the kittens get
    fed, knowing that they'll be racing underfoot in a moment).  Then they
    jump up on the counter to help me.  Rocky got impatient one day and decided
    to jump to a higher vantage point - the shower stall.  Unfortunately,
    there's no top, so when he leapt he found himself hanging by his front
    paws from the stall door, with his rear paws scrabbling frantically for
    some traction on the glass, until I rescued him.

    len (for "Uncle" Merlin and the kids).

    With all the depressing news about our four legged friends that's been
    posted lately, I wish I had some wonderful stories to tell; all I have are
    some wonderful kittens to report about.

    While I was away on vacation, the kittens managed to get into a box full of
    those styrofoam packing pellets, which they love to play with.  My guess
    is that Rocky was the ringleader.  He'd been into the box before, and
    despite my closing it up tight and stacking stuff on top of it, he must
    have remembered what was inside and found a way to knock the stuff off
    and open the box's flaps.

    By the way, I'm not disclosing, or even thinking about, my vacation plans
    any more.  Last fall we were supposed to go to Kauai for a week, and
    a month before our planned departure Hurricane Iniki trashed the place
    (we spent the week on Maui and the Big Island).  Then last winter, the
    day before we were supposed to leave for Aruba, the Great East Coast
    Blizzard struck, delaying us by three days.  Then two weeks ago, days
    before we were departing for the Outer Banks of North Carolina, Hurricane
    Emily blows in.  Actually, I think Merlin has a contact in the Weather
    Department and he set these storms up to keep me at home.

    Anyway, the first thing I saw when I got home from NC was a kitchen full
    of styrofoam snow.  I shrugged my shoulders, laughed at the kittens'
    "industriousness", and just left it for later.

    In an effort to distract the kittens while I unpacked, I sacrificed one
    of the mylar streamered wands that they find so irresistable.  Of course,
    an hour later there were mylar streamers all over the place.  Merlin
    walked by one and was just about to swat it when he saw both me and
    Rocky watching him.  As if he'd meant to do it all along, his paw swept
    by the streamer and gracefully returned to its walking rhythm.  I swear
    he was embarassed by almost being caught doing something "kittenish".

    Merlin has clearly established himself as the boss.  The kittens now
    routinely defer to him.  They still steal his food, but only after he's
    "done".  They'll only come sit next to him if he's asleep; if he's awake
    they'll watch him warily to see if he's "cranky" or if he'll tolerate
    their company.  Rocky still tries to provoke him, but only when he's
    lost his sense to the kitten crazies.

    Rocky is getting enormous.  His paws are already the size of Merlin's and
    his tail is much larger.  If I look quickly, it's hard to tell the two of
    them apart, Rocky's almost Merlin's size and they're virtually the same
    color, especially now that Rocky's lost his frizz.  Lately he's taken to
    standing up, either to solicit affection or to launch an attack, usually
    on Merlin.  And he just had to "help" me when I finally got around to
    cleaning up the snow in the kitchen.

    My refrigerator decided to die at about this time, so while I was emptying
    it of everything that had melted/spoiled/soured, Rocky decided to check
    it out as a place to hide.  I figured, OK, you want to sit in the
    refrigerator, sit in the refrigerator.  I'd close the door, open it a
    half minute later, and he's lying there on the vegetable crisper, in a
    classic Rocky pose, happy as can be.  Dark?  Sealed up?  Great!

    Robin gets ever more svelte.  She seems to be teetheing worse than her
    siblings, and frequently comes up to me to rub her face against me and
    chew on my fingers if I'll let her.  She'll often precede this by giving
    a little tiny meow, the only time I've ever heard her vocalize except for
    her Mack Truck purring and her hissing and growling when she's playing
    Fierce Jungle Beast.  While she's not much for being picked up, she's
    usually the first one to show up to stake out the prime real estate of
    my chest, as long as Merlin isn't asserting his prior claim.  Then,
    she licks my nose.  I know that if I were a boy cat, I'd have a mad
    crush on Robin. 

    Blueberry is turning out to be the mellowed out one.  She's neither as
    frantic as Rocky or as cerebral as Robin.  And in comparison to Robin,
    she's positively Rubinesque.  And I thought she was going to be the
    dominant one!  She still loves to climb on people's backs; if I get down
    on all fours to play with one of the others (or more likely. to clean up
    some mess they've made - knocking over my plants seems to be their favorite
    "accident" lately, and then taking the plant out of the pot, and batting
    the drainage pebbles around, ...), she'll instantly appear on my back,
    where she lays down and stretches herself out comfortably, usually with
    her head hanging over my shoulder.   
      
    len.

    Len,
    
     Thanks so much for the "Kitten-Merlin" stories! I truly needed this
    today! I can just picture you trying to clean up the 'snow', with Rocky
    'helping' by jumping in the nice neat pile you 'thought' you were about
    to pick up! Can't wait to see their pictures, and hopefully meet you
    Sunday!
    
    Keep those stories coming! BTW, you're vacations end up even worse than
    mine! At least with us it only rains most of the time and we actually had a
    small snow flurry in Orlando one year! 8-} But, the lines in
    Disneyworld were real short that day! 8-)
    
    Yonee

    This was Blueberry's weekend; she did one cute little thing, and one big
    thing:

    The cute little thing was something she's actually done before but that
    got lost in the shuffle: Blueberry's learned that she can safely harass
    Uncle Merlin by hiding behind a door and swatting him through the space
    at the hinges.  I have to admit, I cringe at the possibility that she or
    one of the other kittens will close the door on her little arm, but trying
    to cure her of this trick is probably futile and so far we haven't even
    come close to there being a problem.

    The kittens' Great Adventure this weekend was capturing a bumblebee.  Yes,
    one of those big, fat, furry black and yellow monsters.  What it was doing
    up at the fourth story level is beyond me, and how it managed to get
    through the hole in the screen door (you remember, the one that's usually
    covered by the brain coral) and around the almost but not quite completely
    closed sliding door just to run into a *KITTEN* is a tale from the
    Bumblebee Iliad.  Or maybe the Inferno.

    I noticed Blueberry fooling around behind the living room drapes, and
    assumed she was playing Fierce Jungle Beast with the little red alien
    (who'd been recovered from behind the refrigerator), until I heard this
    incredible buzzing sound.  AT first I thought there was something wrong
    with the CD I was listening to, and then thought, maybe it's some kid
    on a motorscooter driving through the parking lot.  The buzzing subsided
    and I went back to reading/listening.  A few minutes later Rocky and
    Robin came running and the buzzing started again.  Then the kittens were
    running all over the living room, like they do when they're chasing a fly.

    Some fly!  The bumblebee was a bit slowed down by the cold, but it was
    mighty annoyed about being harried by three kittens and was buzzing up
    a storm.  It was slow enough for the kittens to bat it around at their
    leisure, so in addition to being sluggish from the cold it was groggy
    from being whacked repeatedly.  But it was still making a valiant effort
    to escape from this nightmare.

    Now, my recollection is that bumblebees are basically harmless creatures,
    unlike their wasp cousins (especially yellowjackets), but I didn't want to
    take any chances, especially if one of the kittens decided to eat it and
    got stung internally.  So I caught in a paper towel  and tossed it off the
    balcony, admonishing it to never come this way again.

    Too bad; from the kittens' perspective it was a nearly ideal toy.  They
    spent the next half hour scouring the apartment looking for it.

    Boy, just worrying about my kittens getting their arms caught in closing
    doors and swallowing live angry bees, I can't imagine how parents get
    through raising kids without worrying themselves into a frenzy...

    len.

    (BTW, Sandy and I went to the show yesterday and met Holly and Mondo
    (did I get that right?) and her Rexes (too many to remember all the
    names), and Yonee too.)
     

    Len,
    
    To cure the paw through the door problem, you might like to try
    putting wide sticky tape across the gap  on the side it opens.  
    (We found Masking tape worked best for us).
    						
    	Door Closed and Tape 			Door Open and Tape
    	  in place                                in place
    
                                                  /
                                                */
                                               */----Door
            *****                           ***/
    ==========o-------===========	======o       =========
        ^     ^   ^      ^               Wall ^           Wall
        |     |   |      |                    |
       Wall   |  Door   Wall                  |
             Hinge                          Hinge
    				
    
    (Sorry for the artwork.  I'm no artist at the best of times).
    
    Good luck - keep up the kitten stories, reading these are the best 
    part of the day.
    
    Judy
    
    

    
    An easier fix for the door was to just tie it back with a rubber band
    (it's the bathroom door and there's a conveniently located towel bar).
    The cats' alternate water bowl is on the floor near the door, so
    Blueberry hides out (true predator style) by the "water hole" waiting
    for Merlin to come for a drink.
    
    Rocky's latest obsession is the TV.  He camps out in front of it.  In
    the morning the moment it's turned on for the news he comes running and
    jumps up to watch.  At night he gets upset if I don't turn it on (since
    I don't watch much TV and usually read and listen to music instead, I'll
    turn it on for him, tune to something visually active like a cartoon or
    nature show, and leave the sound off), and when it gets turned off he goes
    bonkers, even if he's not currently "watching".  He stands up against the
    screen and "dog paddles" at it, smells it, looks beside and behind it.
    
    Merlin has appropriated Rocky's favorite stretch-out-for-a-nap place,
    a "clearing" on the everything-and-anything table (near the TV, which
    is not really a TV but a monitor with both an RGB input connected to my
    PC and an NTSC input connected to a VCR, which is in turn connected to
    the cable tap).  Rocky doesn't seem to mind or notice, once Merlin's
    more or less napping, he just settles down beside him.  About the only
    thing Merlin won't tolerate from the kittens is their playing with his
    tail, otherwise it's a regular Peaceable Kingdom these days.
    
    Both Merlin and Rocky have noticed that "the girls" are growing up.
    Sniffing around under their tails, Blueberry's especially, is getting
    to be a regular thing.  The kittens are approaching six months old, so
    it's time to schedule Robin and Blueberry for an appointment with the
    vet.  
    
    I continue to be amazed by the Fierce Jungle Beast side of Robin's
    usually shy and retiring personality.  Give her one of the fur tails
    she loves for play prey, and she growls and hisses like one serious
    predator.  It's incredible to hear these noises coming out of this
    petite little kitten.
    
    len.

    
    Robin and Blueberry went in this morning to be spayed.  I'm a nervous
    old dad, I know nothing's likely to go wrong, but I still worry about
    my "little girls".  Looking forward to taking them home tonight.
    
    Rocky is enormous, he's about 80% the size of Merlin, and only 6 months
    old.  I'm wondering how the two of them will get along today without
    the girls to moderate...
    
    len.
    
    
    

    Len,
    
     I'm sure your girls will be fine. I won't say don't worry, because we
    all do. I'll be sending good thoughts up there though! Let us know how
    they are!
    
    LOve,
    
     Yonee

    
    I just spoke to the vet and they're fine, I'll be picking them up on
    the way home.
    
    len.
    

    Len,
    
    Glad to hear that the girls are fine.  Just wondering when it's going
    to be equal time for Rocky?
    
    Steffi

    Steffi,
    
     You crack me up! Equal time! 8-) 8-) ;-) I like that! My guess is that
    Rocky will get his turn soon enough, but probably not for another month
    or two. Some vets like the little boys to be a little older!
    
     You know the old saying about males not 'maturing' as quickly as
    females! Sorry Len, I couldn't resist!
    
     So glad your girls are doing well. I'll bet they were glad to be home
    last night! I just KNOW they were spoiled rotten! You're a great Dad
    Len!
    
    Love,
    
    Yonee

    
    Rocky goes at age eight months, i.e., two months from now.  In my
    unavoidable male role as his dad and big brother, I regret having to
    deflate his, er, "pompoms", which have grown quite as grand as his
    magnificent tail.  Rocky is really an impressive hunk, but it's all a
    pose as he's such a mush face.
    
    The girls are much better this morning, but I still feel like an ogre
    for putting them through this traumatic experience, though I do know
    that it's best for all of us and a few weeks from now it will all be
    forgotten.
    
    When I brought Robin and Blueberry home, Merlin regressed to the "hide
    in the corner of the kitchen counter" stage (where he stayed all night),
    while Rocky became aggressively solicitous of and affectionate to me.
    Yes, noticeably more so than usual.  Maybe he's trying to ingratiate
    himself with me so I won't take him for that day trip when his time comes.
    
    Curiously, Blueberry, who's considerably, uh, "bulkier" than Robin, seems
    to have been more affected by the anesthesia.  Robin was up and about
    (albeit a bit wobbly) as soon as she got home, but Blueberry was out
    pretty much until this morning.  This morning, though, she was playing
    with her toys, so it seems all she needed was a good night's sleep.
    
    The vet called me at home last night to see how they were doing, which
    I thought was nice of her.  There was one funny moment when they gave
    me the paper work and I noticed that they recorded that they had spayed
    Merlin (instead of Blueberry), despite the fact that he was already
    noted as a neutered male.  "Computer mixup", of course.  Also, when I
    went to pick them up, the assistant at the desk said I couldn't take
    them home, they were so cute the staff had all decided to keep them. 
    
    Now all I have to do is coax Merlin back into (re)acceptance of the kittens
    as part of his life.  It's amazing how rapidly (less than 10 hours) he
    undid 4 months of accommodation!  Maybe he picked up psychic vibrations
    about that "computer mixup"...
    
    len.
    

    ...back when I lived in my mother and fathers house o' cats, whenever
    one came back from the vets it would get "snubbed" for a day or so by
    the others. Sometimes they'd act afraid of the convalescing cat.
    
    I always figured it was "vet smell" that the cats were genetically 
    predisposed to detesting.
    
    Maybe Merlin wanted to snub the ladies, but figured he was outnumbered
    and went into self-imposed exile??
    
    Edd

    Len,
    
     I have a feeling that the aversion Merlin was feeling, was more the
    'smell' of the girls coming home from the vet, than he forgot about
    them. My girls react that way if only one goes to the vet. She will
    come home looking for sympathy from the other, only to get popped on the
    head! Once the vet smell goes away, they are close buddies again.
    
     Glad everything went well for them. Don't let Rocky talk you out of
    his 'operation' though! ;-)
    
    Yonee 

    
    I figured it was the vet smell too, but "conveniently forgetting them"
    makes a better story.  (BTW, all these stories *are* true, excepting
    of course my attempts to read motivation into their actions).  Merlin
    would get upset when his stepsisters Monkey and Wabbit came back from
    a visit to the vet, but not this way.
    
    Anyway, everyone's much better this morning, the girls are behaving as
    if nothing had happened, Merlin is down from the kitchen counter
    (though he's still a bit growly when the kittens "get in his way"), and
    Rocky is back to his usual merely bouncing off the walls self.
    
    And there's no way Rocky's going to talk me out his neutering, no
    matter how psychologically distressing it might be to a fellow male.
    The benefits (decreased aggression, decreased probability of marking)
    far outweigh the "costs".
    
    But, be that all as it might, I'm still surprised by the number of
    times each day that I tell them "I'm so glad I adopted you guys".
    
    len.
     

    Len,
    
     Maybe it was just a little bit of Merlin hoping those two critters
    were actually out of his life! Then, between the vet smell, and them
    just being back IN his life, he got grumpy! 
    
     I can just hear him grumbling now: "Geeze! And I thought you two were
    gone for good, and I only had to deal with this other one! BAH!:  8-)
    
     Aren't they just the greatest?
    
    Love,
    
     Yonee
    
    P.S. When Rocky's "time" comes, and you need moral support, you know
    where to go! ;-) We'll tell you it's the right thing to do, even though
    guys cringe at the thought of it! 8-)
    
    

    
    What amazing animals!  A week after an ovariohysterectomy and the
    little girls are running around like nothing happened.  The only way
    I can tell they've been spayed is their naked little bellies with the
    stiff sutures sticking out like bristles.  The sutures come out
    Thursday afternoon and there's already a fine fuzz growing over their
    tummies, so soon it will all be just a vague distant memory.  Dr. Palin
    from Westborough Animal Hospital called again Saturday morning to see
    how they were doing.
    
    [When I had Wabbit and Monkey spayed almost twenty years ago (!) I seem
    to recall a much less agressive procedure that entailed just a small
    incision on their sides.  I looked up spaying in the Cornell book, and
    the conventional wisdom is that while a tubal ligation will prevent
    pregnancies, the ovaries must be completely removed to eliminate going
    into heat, and that a hysterectomy is desirable to decrease the chance
    of cancer.  My guess is that Wabbit and Monkey had simple ovariectomies,
    which may have had something to do with Wabbit's mastectomy at age 12.
    Monkey succumbed to congestive heart failure at age 9, so she never got
    old enough to worry about cancer.]
    
    This weekend was Blueberry's for raising hell.  I just got a new PC
    which I set up on my desk in the "library", and Rocky likes to help
    by sitting on the keyboard,  But Blueberry likes to watch from up high,
    so she climbs up my synthesizer/effects equipment racks.  Unfortunately,
    the room light hangs from the ceiling nearby, and the Japanese lantern
    holds some mysterious fascination for the kittens.  At first they used
    to just bat it around, then they discovered they could push it out of
    the way and jump by it to another equipment rack that gave them a
    better view over my shoulder.  Then Blueberry discovered that the paper
    lantern was a fun thing to tear up with those needle sharp little claws
    (which grow faster than I can keep them trimmed, and the kittens aren't
    quite as willing to have their claws trimmed as they used to be).  So,
    over the past few weeks, the Japanese lantern has gotten a bit more
    rag-tag.  Until last night, when I heard this lo-o-o-o-o-o-ong sound of
    tearing paper and turned around to see the lantern completely gone,
    just a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling under a sort of ragged
    umbrella.  I got up to investigate, to find Blueberry sitting in what was
    left of it, cradled in a few cables that just happened to be in the right
    place to stop her fall.  She looked up at me like "I didn't mean to
    break it Daddy", and I extracted her from her "nest", telling her "what
    a naughty little girl; you could have hurt yourself real bad".  I guess
    I'm going to have to get a more "robust" enclosure.
    
    Blueberry has this adorable habit of "tossing out" her curt little meows.
    Robin almost never talks (except to purr), though maybe once every other
    day or so something like a silent meow will sneak out when she really,
    REALLY, *REALLY* wants attention.  Rocky's pretty much quiet until he
    goes bonkers playing, and then all kinds of jumbled up meow/purr/chirps
    come out.  Blueberry on the other hand asks for attention regularly -
    she tosses her head as if to sling it out of her mouth and out comes
    this short little "mew".  
    
    I was reading over some of the earlier entries in this note, when I'd
    only had the kittens a few days, and it's funny how often I confused
    Robin and Blueberry.  Now it's much easier to recognize them; I tend to
    think of Blueberry as Elizabeth Taylor to Robin's Jamie Lee Curtis.
    Pushing the analogy would require Rocky's Tom Cruise to Merlin's Robert
    Mitchum...
    
    len.
    

    
    We big folk just never learn.  I bought two bags of cat litter last
    night and left them by the kitchen while I went off to do other things,
    and came back not fifteen minutes later to find one of the bags torn to
    shreds and the litter all over the floor.  My two "little girls" were
    sitting there as proud as can be.  "Look Daddy, we opened it for you!".
    
    Lately all three kittens have been running like crazy in the morning
    just after we all get up.  After one mad dash through the living room
    this morning I turned around to find Rocky tight rope walking the
    curtain rod over the sliding glass doors to the balcony.  His favorite
    trick is to run the length of the livingroom to build up some momentum,
    then leap to the back of chair and from there "velcro" himself to the
    drapes, so he doesn't have to climb so far to get to the drapery
    traverse.  So I took him down and opened the drapes to let some sun in.
    Zoom, he's off again, turns for his final approach, leaps to the chair
    and tries to velcro himself to the screen door.  Except the glass
    slider is in the way.  Now, he's got this down to a fine art, so when
    he hits the drapes or the screen he's at the peak of his trajectory and
    is hardly moving at all...
    
    So when he reached the glass, he was hardly moving at all, and he was bit
    surprised to discover there was no "velcro effect".  The claws come
    out, he hugs the glass, and slides smoothly down to the floor.  He
    looks up at me like, "Well, you know, I meant to do that".
    
    Rocket J. Kitten indeed.
    
    len.
    

    Len,
    
    I'm sitting here laughing, picturing Rocky's slide down the window. 
    Since he didn't hurt himself banging into window, it is pretty funny.
    
    BTW Len, you should update your bio blurp in our offline newsletter. 
    Your 3 little ones aren't mentioned.
    
    Steffi 

    
    I know, I missed the deadline for the most recent issue, and it's on my
    list of things to do.
    
    Plus pictures.
    
    Rocky's slide looked like something out of a cartoon...
    
    len.
    

    Len,
    
     Thanks so much for that story. I too, am getting strange looks from my
    peers because I have been sitting here guffawing for five minutes!
    Especially when the 'girls' helped out with the litter! I gues you're
    lucky they didn't decide to christen it after they opened it!
    
     The image of Handsome Rocky with a shocked look on his face as he
    skidded down the window had me howling! 
    
     Yonee

    I can just imagine what Rocky looked like from the *outside*. Face all 
    mooshed against the slider, eyes like saucers...
    
    Edd

    
    	baahahahahahahahaaaaa!!
    
    	ahem.....  =)
    

    
    Well, he did it again this morning; after a climb up the drapes to
    tightrope walk the traverse rod, I took him down and opened the drapes to
    let in a little drab grey cloud-filtered daylight.  A few minutes
    later, he launched himself into space, this time because he was being
    chased by Blueberry.  Just as elegantly, but at the bottom of this
    morning's slide down the glass he looked up and stared at the slider as
    if to say, "How come it works sometimes and not others?"
    
    A little while later I caught Robin standing on the back of the chair, 
    stretched out full length with her front paws against the glass, as if
    she was asking "Hmm, now just what is it that he does when he gets here?"
    
    "Clearly", the kittens find transparent materials "sheerly" baffling.
    Water, glass, TV screens...
    
    BTW, they're *all* watching TV now, and Robin especially likes to chase
    the mouse cursor across the PC monitor screen.
    
    len.
    

    
    My little girls had their stitches removed yesterday, and Rocky went
    along with them for moral support and as a reminder that the vet's
    office is a nice place to visit.
    
    len.
    

    SSSOOO!!!!! Lulling him into a false sense of security, eh? 8-) Well,
    after the next 'trip', I don't think it will EVER work again! ;-) 
    
    I actually think it was a great idea, but what fun is that? 8-}
    
    You're such a wonderful Dad Len!
    
    Yonee

    
    One thing I noticed this weekend that seems consistent in retrospect -
    these three kittens seem to be more "hand oriented" (i.e., reaching,
    grasping, etc.) than any other cats I've known.  Rocky was a "reacher"
    from the very beginning; the first time I saw him he stuck his paw
    through the cage mesh to try to touch me, and he still "reaches out to
    touch" when he's feeling affectionate.  This weekend I noticed
    Blueberry using one of her front paws to get extra support (by pushing
    against Brewster, a very big bear who sits in the corner of my bedroom)
    while playing with her favorite toy (one of those feather doohickies,
    suspended from the ceiling rather than from a wand).  And this morning
    Robin was "all hands" trying to touch/grab me while I was performing
    my morning ablutions.
    
    This is more than the usual cats' batting and scratching with their paws;
    they really seem to use their front paws in unusual and, dare I say it,
    innovative ways.  I've know many cats who would grasp things, and a few
    cats who would "hug" you around the neck when you picked them up, but
    much of what I'm seeing these kittens do is a first for me.
    
    len.
     

    len,
    
    Maybe they're Geminis!  ]:3  My mother had an all-white (yellow eyes,
    not deaf) Gemini guy named Rodney who was extremely manual, or is that
    paw-ual...  Gemini rules the hands, so we figured he was just doing
    what comes naturally.  No pen or pencil was safe on any accessible
    surface - funny that his favorite toys were hand tools!
    
    Leslie 

    
    Well, they were born towards the beginning of April; I don't have a
    table of birthsigns handy, so I don't know what sign that corresponds
    to.  And I've not been able to accurately determine their birthdate
    (it might be off by a month!) anyway.
    
    len.
    

    Two of my 4 furfaces use their paws like hands. If, for example, I'm
    sitting at the kitchen table in the morning having my coffee and he
    wants some attention, he'll walk up beside the chair, stand up on his
    hind legs and reach way up with one of his paws. Then I feel this tap,
    tap, tap on my elbow. When I acknowledge him, he'll either wait to be
    picked up, or if I slide the chair back a little, he'll jump up.
    
    Another has learned to give you his paw like a dog. Let him no you have
    a bonker, put your hand down in front of him and say "give me your paw"
    and he'll plunk his right paw in your hand. He's also the one that if
    you hand feed him something, he'll wrap his paw around your wrist and
    PULL your hand to him.
    
    It's a riot to watch these two because they'll always come back around
    the breakfast bowls after everyone is done and gone to take their
    baths. Their looking for leftovers. I'll usually mix Iams with some wet
    and occasionally some will drop beind the dish and be between the dish
    and the wall. No problem. Each of them will just reach down and shove
    the dish out of the way so that can get at that piece of Iams.
    
    The one that likes to get your attention by reaching up and tapping you
    on the arm is also the one that makes sure one of us get's up in the
    morning to serve breakfast. The routine usually goes something like
    this.  Jump up on the bed and stick nose and whiskers in human face.
    If human get's up....fine, if not, go to night stand. Start pushing
    things around and threaten to knock something down. If human get's up,
    fine. If not, and still within reach of human, go to dresser. Sit and
    stare at human while human yells to GET DOWN. Ignore human and knock
    perfume bottle off of dresser. When human yells louder, reach down and
    knock miscellaneous items on floor. When human gets up, follow to
    kitchen to eat.

    
    Robin in particular has been get very "handy" lately.  In the morning
    at the bathroom sink while I'm brushing my teeth, she'll jump up on the
    counter and reach for my free hand, then pull it to her head so she can
    "head butt" and "mouth wipe" it at her leisure.  Then she'll jump down
    and do the same thing with my feet.  She especially likes to roll over
    on her back with her head on my instep and reach back to grab my ankle.
    
    len.
       

    
    Nothing much new to report, just a lot more of the same.  They're all
    getting big, and Rocky, at eight months, is as big as Merlin now.  If
    I look quickly, it's hard to tell them apart, unless I can see the
    tail.  Rocky's tale is just enormous and fox bushy, and he carries it
    proudly aloft.  Stocky Rocky we call him, he's got muscles on his muscles,
    though he's such a lazy fellow, he falls over on his side every chance he
    gets.  There's nothing so fascinating that he can't consider it lying down.
    Rocky's got an appointment Monday to have his already-jumbo-marble-sized
    "pompoms" "deflated".
    
    The other night, while playing with their "kitty flyer" suspended from
    the ceiling, one of them swatted it so hard it flew up and landed on
    the top shelf of a nearby bookcase.  They tried *everything* to get to
    it.  Tried to climb up the bookcase (too hard to get around the shelves).
    Tried to climb the bookcase next to it (same problem).  Then Rocky tried
    climbing the adjacent drapes.  This almost worked, he could get up high
    enough, but hanging on and reaching for the feathers at the same time was
    too scary for him.  After a half hour of this, they all sat on the floor
    staring up at it, trying by sheer willpower to force it to levitate off
    the shelf.
    
    Robin continues to amaze me with her Jekyll/Hyde personality changes.
    She's so petite and sweet, but let her get her grabby little paws on
    some Practice Prey and she's instantly transformed into the Fiercest
    Jungle Beast.  She growls, she hisses, she spits; this is *Robin*, of
    the almost silent meow!
    
    Blueberry continues to get more vocal.  I think she's figured out that
    I have a serious weakness for her plaintive, squeaky little meow.  She
    asks for everything - "pick me up", "give me a treat", "take the feather
    flyer down so I can play", "make Merlin move so *I* can sit on your
    chest".  (BTW, Robin just pushes Merlin out of the way when she wants
    chest space.)
    
    Merlin still pretty much ignores the kittens, though I have caught him
    every now and then doing something vaguely kittenish.  It's like he
    watches them, and thinks, "gee, I remember when I used to do that, but
    that's soooooo immature and childish, besides I'm too old and stodgy
    and I have my image as Senior Cat to preserve, but maybe if no one's
    looking I could ...".  This morning I found him in the bathtub behind
    the shower curtain, apparently "investigating" just what it was that
    the kittens found so fascinating in there - "you know, Dad, in case I
    have to protect them from something bad...".   He only gets "cranky" when
    all three kittens accost him at the same time (usually in the morning
    when they all pile on top of me (and him, as he's almost always beside
    me) in anticipation of my getting up and setting out their breakfast).
    But the kittens know the protocol - if he growl/meows, that means "get
    lost", and they run off.  Sometimes.  Sometimes they challenge his
    authority (can you say "teenager"?) and he stalks off in a huff.  It's 
    touching when he gets jealous - if he feels slighted by my paying too
    much attention to one of them when he feels it's his turn, he gets this
    look in his eyes, a sort of disappointed/annoyed combination, and he
    refuses to purr no matter how much I pet him, even though he's normally
    got a hair trigger purr box.
    
    Rocky still tries to provoke Merlin into playing with him, and rather
    than whack him, all Merlin does is put his paw on Rocky's head ("look
    son, cool your jets") and Rocky rolls over on his side.
    
    The kittens love their early Christmas present - a pair of L. L. Bean
    (shhhh - they're nominally for dogs) cat beds.
    
    Speaking of presents - today's Sandy's birthday, and the kittens (Rocky
    especially) "helped" me wrap her gifts.  They were so helpful that the
    wrapping paper is just full of little claw tears, but Sandy will
    understand.  Rocky kept trying to steal her Acorn slipper socks, there
    was something powerfully compelling about the smell of the wool; even
    after it was wrapped he kept trying to unwrap the box and carry it
    away.  So I wrapped up a "dead" feather flyer and gave it to him to
    "practice" opening.  
    
    len.
    

    
    Well, I dropped Rocky off this morning at Westborough Animal Hospital
    for his neutering.  The little guy was such a trouper about it.  I put
    the cat carrier out last night, and this morning everyone was wary.
    "Where's our breakfast Daddy?  How come there's no wahwah?  Who has to
    get in the penalty box?"  Eventually, Rocky, who must have known it was
    his time, strolled into the carrier and made himself comfortable.  I let
    him get used to the idea for a little while, then closed the door so I
    could finally feed the rest of them.  Then he figured that something was
    up - he could hear the cans being opened three rooms away, and when I came
    to get him, he was "rattling his cage" quite literally.  We trundled off
    to the car, and he was game about it, not a peep out of him until he
    thought he was being left alone while I walked around the car to my
    side; one or two little cries until he realized that I was getting in
    alongside him.  When I got to the vet's, I opened the carrier door and
    he cam right out to stand in my lap and look out the window, and I
    carried him in.  It was only then that I realized that this would be the
    first time he'd be on his own.  He was trembling, whether from the chill
    or some intimation that this was not just another examination, but he was
    a brave little boy even as he was carried off to his "appointment".
    
    I know that a male neutering is trivial compared to what Robin and
    Blueberry went through, but they had each other for company, and bad
    as I felt about subjecting them to such a trauma, I felt almost as
    bad about leaving Rocky all by himself.  And despite my trust of the
    folks at Westborough Animal Hospital (especially after Robin and
    Blueberry's uneventful spayings), I still worry about my little buddy,
    and have my fingers crossed until I can call around 3PM this afternoon
    to find out how he's doing and if I can take him home tonight (as I
    expect to be able to). 
    
    len.
     
    

    Len,
    
     What a Dude Rocky is! I'm sure he'll be fine y himself, as he'll be
    very groggy for a while anyway. I'm sure the staff will keep him
    comapny too. He's such a handsom guy, who could resist! ;-)
    
     I won't tell you not to worry. I'll have my fingers crossed all day
    too, until you let us know all is well. What a little trooper! Give him
    some gentle hugs from me when you go pick him up.
    
     Love,
    
     Yonee

    
    I have my fingers crossed for the little guy too. I'm sure he'll be 
    ok. We had Ziba spayed last Tuesday. By Friday she was her old self
    again climbing and jumping off of everything. 
    
    Shaw

    
    I just got the word that Rocky's doing fine and I can pick him up on
    the way home.
    
    I'm so relieved that this major hurdle is now past for all my "kids".
    
    len.
    

    
    	Yey Len!
    
    	Now you, and Rocky, can both get a good nights sleep!
    
    	Heidi

    YEEHAW!!!! I knew he would be fine! I'm still really glad to get the
    news though! Give him a gentle hug from me! 
    
    Let us know if the 'girls' treat him poorly when he gets home because
    of the (ARGH!) vet smell! ;-)
    
    I love good news!
    
    Yonee

    
    Thanks to you all for your concern and thoughts.  I'm sure the kittens
    (and old Merlin too) can sense it through their extra-dimensional
    connection...
    
    len (who can't wait to get out of here and retrieve his little buddy).
    

    
    Rocky's home and almost back to normal this morning.  He ate a big
    breakfast, after a solid night's sleep.  After getting home he was a
    little wobbly, and walked a bit bow-legged.  His sisters don't seem to
    have even noticed he was gone for the day, but you'd think it was old
    Merlin who'd been neutered from his behaviour.  He's back hiding in his
    favorite retreat, the back corner of the kitchen counter, and he
    shrieks and howls whenever he merely *sees* *any* of the kittens!
    
    Silly little Rocky - I'd make him comfortable in one of his favorite
    napping places, and then go off for a moment to do something, and he'd
    get up and dutifully follow me.  So then I'd sit with him until he
    nodded off, then sneak away, and a few minutes later he'd be there
    beside me again.  So finally I just gave in and said, OK Rocky, this
    other stuff can wait until tomorrow, and I sat down with him in my lap,
    and he decided he wanted to sit at the other end of the sofa anyway.
    I took a peek under his tail, and his big grey furry marshmallows are
    gone.
    
    Dr. Stuer of Westborough Animal Hospital called last night to check up
    on him.  It's nice of them to do this sort of followup (which they also
    did with my little girls).
    
    Speaking of whom, Blueberry has picked up the "carry my prey in my
    mouth all over the house" routine from Mighty Huntress Robin.  Last
    night while Rocky watched in a slightly foggy daze, she managed to
    capture the feather flyer and get it between her teeth.  She then
    tried to carry it off, except that it's attached to the ceiling by a
    long string.  So it would resist by pulling up (instead of sideways,
    like most other attached things do).  So she could only carry it any
    distance by walking along things that were up reasonably high, and
    even then she could only walk it a few feet one way or another.  So she
    did the best she could.  She figured out that it was that damn string
    that was cramping her style, and she tried to separate the flyer from
    the string, but to no avail.  She looked like a little soldier patrolling
    the ramparts of her fortress, along the top of the dresser and the
    middle shelves of the bookcases and the heads of the big bears sitting
    nearby.
    
    len.
    

    
    Things are completely back to normal as of this morning.  Merlin came
    out of his hidey hole last night and slept with the rest of us, and
    this morning he was back to pretty much ignoring the kittens.  Rocky's
    running around like nothing happened.
    
    When I got home yesterday, Blueberry was especially solicitous, and she
    led me into the bedroom talking continuously.  Her very favorite toy,
    the feather flyer, was no longer attached to its ceiling string, and had
    somehow found its way into my bed...
    
    len.
    

    
    Rocky's latest obsession is climbing the drapes in my bedroom so he can
    get up on top of a nearby bookcase.  He started doing this when he
    somehow discovered that I was stashing the feather flyers up there, and
    the new one (supposedly a Christmas treat) with real guinea hen feathers
    must have been too much to resist.  So I hid the feather thingies in the
    dresser drawer with the mylar sparkle wands, figuring that would remove
    any incentive for him to make this not-so-easy-even-for-a-strapping-little- 
    guy like him ascent.  Yeah, right.
    
    That night he went up the drapes *three* times.  He's not exactly quiet
    about it, and he woke me up each time.  Now he's decided it doesn't
    matter if the feather things aren't there, he needs a stratospheric
    vantage point in each room, and the bedroom was the last frontier.
    Of course, this required that he displace two lions, a polar bear, two
    pandas, and a NAS Architecture Reference Manual while clearing out
    enough space for him to lounge in his preferred style.
    
    While getting up there just requires a lot of energy, getting *down*
    requires something more like reckless bravado.  Here's the setup:
         
          +--------|-------------W-I-N-D-O-W------------|-----------------+
          |+----+ +----------------drapes----------------++--------------+|
          ||6'  |                                         |  7'          ||
          ||book|                                         |  book        ||
          ||case|                                         |  case        ||
    +-----++----+                                         +--------------+|
    |+----+       * (feather flyer suspended here)                        |
    ||    |                                                               |
    ||7'  |            +-------------------------------------------------+|
    ||book|            |                                                 ||
    ||case|            |                                                 ||
    ||    |            |  bed (with three LLBean cat beds strewn about)  ||
    ||    |            |                                                 ||
    |+----+            |                                                 ||
    
    
    He marches back and forth from bookcase to bookcase across the traverse
    rod, trying to find the "ideal" place to jump down, except that they're
    all just a bit over his threshold of fear of heights...  Finally he
    figures by reaching down to the next shelf from the lowest (6' high)
    bookcase he only has to jump 5' - he still doesn't seem comfortable
    jumping to the bed, which would lop another foot of height off - I
    guess it's because the feather flyer is in the way ...
    
    Robin, Blueberry and Merlin just watch all this wondering "what's
    gotten into *him*?"
    
    len.
    

    Finally, we're back on-line!
    
    The kittens (catlets really, they're getting quite big) experienced snow
    for the first time over the holidays.  I let them out on the balcony,
    where there was enough snow for them to "sample".  They walked in it and
    left wonderful little footprints, then decided it was cold and wet and
    maybe not so much fun after all.  But outside *was* fun, and there were
    places on the balcony that didn't have any snow, so it was time to play
    catch the kittens and get them back inside.  Except they're too big to
    hold all three at one time, so it's catch the kitten and put him/her inside
    without letting one or more of the other ones out again...  We played this
    game for quite a while.

    Well, if cold but not wet is OK, I guess Rocky (ever the intrepid explorer)
    figured the refrigerator must be a great place.  Because he's in there
    every chance he gets.  It's truly amazing what cats will find to hang on to
    when they don't want to be extracted from someplace.

    Rocky's drape climbing escapades have become a several times a day
    occurrence now.  He's got it down to a fine art now, so he makes less noise
    and it takes him no more than a few seconds.  The snags in the drapes are
    one thing, but when he tries to lever himself over the top he sometimes
    bends the drapery hooks seriously out of shape.  And of course, repeatedly
    bending them back results in them breaking off eventually.  It's a good
    thing the drapes are old and I don't much care how they look.

    Robin has decided that if she can't (or won't) climb the drapes, she
    CAN (and does) climb the bath towels.  Sometimes this works, sometimes
    it doesn't, as, unlike the drapes, the towels aren't actually attached
    to the towel bar and too leisurely a climb gives them time to slip off
    the bar like a rope off a pulley.  And unlike Rocky, who clearly has a
    destination in mind, Robin doesn't quite know what to do once she's
    gotten up on top.  More interesting is what happens when she climbs up
    inside the towel...

    Rocky, having learned that if you fling yourself hard enough at something
    you can probably climb up it, has discovered that he can get onto the top
    shelf of the closet by jumping from the dresser onto my shirts (the hangers
    make a sort of gently sloping cloth shelf for him to use as a way station).
    Unfortunately, the cat carrier is stored in this closet, on this shelf, and
    it's not unusual for it to come tumbling off the shelf as Rocky tries to
    scramble over it.

    Rocky even tried to climb up the (wood) side of his favorite bookcase.
    He launched himself quite impressively, but couldn't get any traction.
    I'm starting to think about making some ladders for him, to minimize the
    wear and tear on my clothes and furniture, but this treads too perilously
    close to actually conceding control of my life to the cats...  This
    little guy is literally climbing the walls.

    Repeat as needed: "I love them, they're so cute, they'll only be like this
    for a few more years."

    So where's Blueberry been during all this merry making?  Watching regally.
    It's a bit like observing a royal family.  Blueberry is the heir apparent,
    the obvious successor to the throne.  She's been to charm school, she's
    discreet, polite, comfortable in her role.  And such a chatterbox!  Robin's
    her silently independent sister, impatient with the necessary social
    conventions.  And Rocky is the recklessly enthusiastic young prince, always
    getting into innocent trouble.  Everyone thinks Rocky's a hunk and Robin
    is a fairy tale princess, but Blueberry's the one they want to "borrow".
  
    Robin's meow box seems to have rusted up from lack of use as a little
    kitten, she "talks" every now and then but all that comes out is this
    sort of hissy sound.
    
    It's funny to watch the three of them play - I'm surprised that when they
    first arrived, I figured Blueberry would be the dominant cat.  She's
    proven to be the mellowest, least aggressive of the three.  And while both
    Robin and Rocky's curiosity serve them well (sort of), Blueberry seems
    to regularly outsmart herself.  Blueberry's always where the toy was a
    moment ago, while Rocky or Robin are carrying it away.
    
    All of this is rubbing off ever so slightly on Merlin, who sometimes
    forgets his role as cranky old fart.  I caught him playing with a string
    recently!   

    And oh yes, we finally got our copy of the Jingle Cats CD.  The cats have
    have come to suspect that the loudspeakers are a fraud - the sounds that
    come out of them are magic and there isn't anything inside.  So they figure
    the meows they hear that sound so real, probably aren't really coming out
    of those big boxes; the cats must be somewhere nearby.  So Rocky stands up
    on his haunches, his front legs at his side, looking like a big squirrel,
    and scans the living room horizon.  Blueberry runs into the next room (the
    one "behind" the speakers) convinced the cats must be in there.  Robin
    climbs up to check the speakers one more time, looking at me as if to ask,
    "Daddy, there aren't really cats in the boxes, are there?"  And old Merlin
    lifts his head from his nap - "When are you kids going to learn it's just
    another one of those darn human tricks". 

    A pleasant surprise was a Christmas card from the folks who adopted Rocky/
    Robin/Blueberry's sister, which included a picture of her.  She's a real
    beauty, with Robin and Blueberry's coat markings, Blueberry's facial
    structure and deep blue eyes, Robin's white boots, and Rocky's luxuriant
    coat.  They've named her Schuco; no, I don't know the derivation of the
    name.
    
    The three youngsters have gotten complacent about the camera, so I'm
    starting to get some really nice pictures of them (yes, even better
    than the ones I brought to the Christmas party, and I'm also taking
    more prints instead of slides).

    len.
    

    
    The past few nights, I have had the distinct pleasure of serving as a
    warm-place-to-rest for Merlin and Rocky *simultaneously*.  Even more
    remarkably, Rocky usually drapes himself half across Merlin in order
    to snuggle up to me, and the old guy just shrugs it off.  With both of
    their purrboxes going full throttle it's quite cozy.
    
    After a little while of this Robin usually shows up and tries to sneak
    in.  Sometimes this exceeds Merlin's threshhold for large kittens in the
    same place at the same time,  but sometimes he'll even tolerate
    Blueberry's stretching out on the arm of the sofa just inches above his
    head.
    
    len.
    

    
    This weekend the folks down the hall with the orange Maine Coon named
    Malone moved across the hall from their old apartment, and Malone
    was free to roam the hall at his leisure.  Since my own little ones
    have been exhibiting signs of cabin fever lately (whenever they hear
    me get my coat out of the closet, they come running and block the door,
    and Robin has snuck by a few times), so I figured "let's go visit
    Malone".  I took Rocky out first, and he really couldn't bother. 
    "Yeah, so, it's another big cat, big deal".  Malone didn't seem
    terribly interested in Rocky either (though Malone has developed a
    reputation for being a little slow about things).  Since Malone
    has been known to hang around my door (where Robin often stretches
    out for a nap), I figured, OK, I'll bring Robin down for a visit.
    
    I brought Rocky back, and let Robin "sneak" out.  The moment I closed
    the door, though, she panicked.  Her tail fluffed up bigger than 
    Rocky's (it was like she'd been hooked up to static electricity
    generator), and she let out a miserable howl - this was Robin the
    silent one.  Malone was nowhere to be seen, but she couldn't get back
    inside fast enough.  It took almost a minute before her tail returned
    to normal!  I wish I'd had a camera handy.
    
    She still tries to sneak out every morning, and I have to shepherd her
    back inside, but next time we go "exploring" the hall I guess I'll have
    to leave the door open a bit (providing Rocky and Blueberry the
    opportunity to escape as well).
    
    len.
      

    
    My three mouseketeers are always full of surprises.
    
    Blueberry has decided that the other side of the front door is a
    wonderful place to be.  While Rocky and Robin poke their heads out and
    maybe walk outside to sit down and check it out, Blueberry runs by and
    trots (specifically, trots - she's got the gait down perfect) to the
    end of the hall, where she stops and rolls over on her side (a little
    trick she must have picked up from her brother).  Her siblings watch
    her like "hey, where's she going?".  Sometimes when I go to get her she
    plays "catch me".
    
    Speaking of watching, the other night the three of them were arrayed in
    their favorite places in the bedroom bookcase - Rocky on top, Blueberry
    on one of the shelves near the floor, and Robin on the floor (swatting
    at the "cat dancer", their favorite toy of the new year).  I was in bed
    reading.  All of a sudden all three stopped what they were doing and
    looked towards the bedroom door.  I listened carefully to see what had
    caught their attention.  I couldn't hear a thing.  A few seconds later,
    Old Merlin cam sauntering in.  The "kittens" tracked him until he
    jumped up on the bed and settled in.  Then they went back to their
    business.  It was like a bunch of kids at the playground when the 
    neighborhood grumpy old fart walks by - everybody stops and waits until
    he's gone by and nobody's been yelled at for doing something kiddish.
    
    Rocky's so proud of his perch on top of the bookcase, he's gotten a bit
    complacent.  One afternoon while lolling around up there playing with the
    feather thing that had gotten stuck on the shelf below him, he fell off.
    Luckily it was on the drapery side, so he caught himself on the drapes
    and starting hauling himself back up.  Of course, he had to pass the
    feather, and he couldn't resist grabbing it in his mouth and
    continuing up to the top.  He was so impressed with himself!  Sometimes
    I think he climbs up there just to show me he can.  He does it at
    least a half dozen times a day now.
     
    He's learned a new game called "guess where Daddy's going and try to get
    there first".  This requires him to run like crazy in whatever
    direction I start moving toward, and getting by me or running between
    my legs.  One of these days we're both going to take a tumble...  At
    least he doesn't try to go over me, like Blueberry would.  She's gotten
    quite big, but still thinks she can just jump onto my shoulders when
    she wants some attention.  Rocky climbs the drapes, Blueberry climbs
    me.  Little Robin just tries to take my cereal bowl away so she can
    drink the "flavored" milk.
    
    Gotta love'em. 
    
    len.
    

    
    Time for our now merely monthly report.
    
    The "kittens" seem pretty close to full grown, at 11 months old.  Little
    Robin weighs in at about 7 pounds, Blueberry at 9, and Rocky at 11.  Rocky
    is bigger overall than Merlin now, but his foxy little head is smaller.  I
    wonder if this means he's going to get still larger, or he's just going to
    be a, dare I say it, "pinhead".  Under his thick coat he's muscled like
    a little weightlifter.
    
    Their relationship with old "Uncle" Merlin has stabilized; he's a
    cranky old fart around them.  It's down to a routine now - a particular
    growl/meow and a whack to the head.  Rocky still tries to get Merlin
    to play, but the two girls pretty much leave him alone.  Little Robin
    has learned that the old guy knows some useful stuff, like where all
    the good places are, and she seems to have developed a way of easing
    him out of his favorite places so she can sit there, without provoking
    his usual "@%$#*@ you young whippersnappers" response. 
    
    Blueberry is a regular chatterbox, she's especially vocal about getting
    her favorite treat (which none of the others show any interest in at
    all), those "tartar control" cookies.  She's also every now and then
    unrelentingly affectionate, often when I'm sitting at my PC at home.
    Her favorite places to lounge, if she can't get me to hold her, are on
    the monitor and on the mouse pad (of course).  She still surprises me
    (a serious understatement) now and then by leaping onto my back, only
    now at 9 pounds and with fingernails that despite regular trimming
    really deserve to be called talons rather than claws, my back sometimes
    looks likes an old pincushion.
    
    The three of them have grown up to be extraordinarily beautiful cats,
    it's hard to accept that just a short while ago they were such little
    fluffballs.  I wish they were less of an annoyance to the old guy,
    though on balance I think they have been a good thing for him. They've
    certainly been a wonderful thing for me.
    
    len.
    

    
    Old Merlin went in for his annual checkup and shot update yesterday.
    Barring any surprise bad news from his blood work (kidney profile),
    Dr. Mackenzie pronounced him in remarkably good shape for an 18 year
    old (Merlin will be 19 in August).  Merlin was not too happy about the
    visit - he had developed a fluid filled cyst under the skin on his back
    about where he got all those subcutaneous fluids last spring, and that
    got drained, then his old veins wouldn't bulge enough for the blood
    sample syringe to find his jugular, so he got a a little patch of fur
    shaved off for a second try, and that didn't help, so we finally got
    a sample out of his forearm, and then he had to have some tartar scaled
    from his teeth.  Then two more shots to make him street legal.  Six
    pokes with needles!
    
    BTW, Dr. Stuer has left Westborough Animal Hospital to take over a
    veterinary clinic in the wilds of Maine.
    
    This morning, Rocky and Merlin were sitting together in the sun, with
    Rocky trying desperately to resist the temptation of Merlin's tail,
    whose tip was curling slowly back and forth just inches in front of
    Rocky's face, while Merlin stared him down, daring him to pounce on it.
    So Rocky settled for just reaching out to rest his fat front paw on
    the tip of Merlin's tail, so maybe it would stop moving.  A little
    eye contact with the Old One convinced Rocky maybe this wasn't such a
    clever idea.
    
    I keep telling Merlin he's got to spend some quality time with Rocky,
    counseling him on what it means to be a *cat*.  Sometimes Rocky thinks
    he's a little bear (he's certainly built like one; maybe the presence
    of all those stuffed bears has confused him, though there are enough
    stuffed cats, especially lions and tigers, around to serve as adequate
    role models), and sometimes he thinks he's a prancing pony.
    
    len.
      

    
    Reviewing some of the older notes in this string reminded me of one
    of Blueberry's more peculiar habits - licking people's hair.  She does
    it to both Sandy and me, whenever she gets into a position where she
    can reach it.  I don't know if it's an attempt to groom us or what.
    I can't imagine anything common about our hair, we use different
    shampoos, I don't use anything else on my hair and Sandy uses the usual
    array of women's hair junk stuff (I regularly yank her chain by
    admonishing Blueberry not to lick Sandy's hair because it's full of
    toxic chemicals...).
    
    Rocky's favorite licking place is my chin, and Robin's is my nose.  I
    have learned how sensitive one's eyelids are when Blueberry one day
    decided that my eyebrows might taste as good as my hair, but missed
    (kids, *don't* try this at home).
    
    len.
    

    
    
    	I had heard at one time that if your cat grooms you it
    	means he/she has "accepted" you into their pack....
    
    	Sasha and Chloe used to do it all the time.  Sasha still
    	likes to do it....especially early in the morning when I'm
    	still trying to sleep!
    

    Lizette likes to lick my wet hair after I wash it.  Devin likes to lick
    my face, my eyelids (ouch), my legs when I get out of the shower.  I
    guess I'm accepted. ;)
    
    Steffi

    I've heard that when a cat licks its human's eyelids, it's a sign of 
    affection. My Siamese Junie (RIP) used to do this a lot.

    Peanut likes to groom my hair, but I think it's because he's attracted 
    to the shampoo or conditioner I use now. If I'm sitting on the couch, 
    he'll hop up on the back of the couch behind me, stand up on his hind 
    legs with his front paws on my head and then start to groom. Sometimes 
    he'll knead my head and gently pull at my hair, too -- ouch! 

    Linda

    Linda...I agree I think my cats lap my hair because of the hair
    spray.  They never lap my husbands hair.   As well as they lap
    my eye lashes (not my husbands)...but I believe it is because of 
    the smell of the mascarra I use.
    
    I'd like to think it's because they accepted me...but I really
    think it's because of the smell!!!  
    
    Sandy 

    
    Another "cute" trait of the no-longer-kittens is sitting in my chest
    and drooling on my face.  Both Robin and Rocky, once their purr-boxes
    have built up a full head of steam, literally "overflow" with love
    and affection.
    
    "Cats rule, dogs drool"?  Try again.
    
    len.
     

    
    Dr. Mackenzie called last night with the results of Merlin's blood
    work.  While his BUN and creatinine levels are slightly higher than
    they were last spring, they're within normal tolerances and are
    acceptable for a cat of his age and health.
    
    So, after celebrating the "kittens"' First Birthday next week, we can
    look forward to celebrating Merlin's Nineteenth this coming August.
    
    len.
     

         Wow, Len, *congratulations* to Merlin.  19!!!  Fantastic!
    
    					- Andrea & youngsters
    					    Bigfoot (15-1/2), Loki (12-1/2)
                                            and Midnight (3-1/2).
    		

    
    If you've been following this note since back near the beginning, you
    may remember the piece of brain coral that blocks the small (kitten
    sized) hole in the screen door.
    
    Well, as the Greater Maynard Area Feliners probably noticed, yesterday
    was a gorgeous Spring-like day, and it obviously called for opening the
    windows and the living room glass slider to the balcony.  I carefully
    covered the hole in the screen (with the brain coral), and figured,
    even if they do knock it over the hole's too small for them to get
    through, and went off about my business.
    
    OK, you all know what's coming.
    
    A half hour later I'm in the bedroom, making the bed, when I hear the
    window screen rattling.  I look up, and there are the three "kittens",
    standing up looking *in* through the screen from out on the balcony,
    saying "Hi Daddy".
    
    Sure enough, they had rolled the brain coral aside, squeezed through the
    hole, and were out having a little balcony party by themeselves.
    Never underestimate the ability of a cat, no matter how large, to
    squeeze through a hole, no matter how small, to get to someplace
    "interesting".
    
    Rocky's become a real "stand up" guy.  He stands up on his hind legs at
    the least provocation.  He'll do it "on demand" if he thinks it means
    he can get his head rubbed that way.  And his favorite way of "approaching"
    Merlin is coming up behind him, standing up and walking with his big front
    mittens gyrating in front of him, then dropping on Merlin's back.  Poor
    old Merlin, who's easily surprised (my guess is his hearing's not quite as
    acute as it used to be).  Rocky seems less interested in "playing" than in
    just sneaking up on the old guy.  He really looks like a little bear.
    
    len.
    

    
    Come on Len! Did you really think your three would be content
    to sit INSIDE on a day like that?!
    
    NEVER underestimate a cat that wants ANYTHING!!!!!!!!
    
    	Heidi

    Len, what a hoot!  Herbie and Taja did that once, but there was no hole
    in the screen!  I opened the slider in the bedroom, and they somehow
    slid the screen door open with their paw, went onto the balcony, and
    closed the door again!  I really don't know how they did it because I 
    *know* I didn't let them out there.  I was in the living room watching
    TV and had to go into the bedroom for something, and they were sitting
    outside on the balcony meowing to come in.
    
    To this day, I cannot figure out how they did that, but it really
    happened!
    
    -Roberta
    

    
    It's Saturday morning after a long week and I want to sleep late.  The cats
    come roust me out of bed at 5:30 AM (c'mon, Daddy, it's light, it's
    time for breakfast and if you don't feed us now we'll just stand here
    on top of you so you can't get comfortable without feeling guilty about
    making us move...).  I feed them and go back to bed.  Around 11 (!!!)
    Robin's back trying to get my attention.  I hear strange noises from
    the living room.  "Where is everyone, Little Robin?  What are they
    doing?"  She looks at me like "Come quick, Rocky was naughty".
    
    So I get up, go into the living room, and the sliding glass door is
    open about a foot - I swear I had left it open no more than an inch to
    let some fresh air in, and to block access to the hole in the screen.
    And Rocky and Blueberry are out on the balcony again, and the hole in
    the screen is cat sized now.  Robin sneaks through the hole, turns and
    looks at me like "See, I told you".
    
    The slider's heavy, and not easy to get moving, but Rocky's been
    hauling himself up the drapes a half dozen times a day for what, six
    months now?  Is he strong enough to slide the door far enough to get to
    the hole?  Is the Pope Catholic?  I gather the cats up (always fun now
    that they're too big to catch and hold more than one at a time) and
    bring them back inside, and close the slider down to a few inches.
    
    Within minutes, Rocky shows me he can open it.  He sticks his head in
    the opening and just shoulders the huge (to him) sliding glass door
    aside.  Out through the hole.  Blueberry and Robin follow instantly.
    
    Oh boy!
    
    Have you ever tried "sewing" a patch over a hole in a screen door? 
    With three kitten-brained/cat-bodied "assistants"?
    
    len.
    

    Len, you'd better hide the credit cards too!  :^)  I can see it now,
    Rocky climbs the slider, squeezes through the hole with the other two
    in hot pursuit, they scale the walls to the ground, take the car and go
    on a wild shopping spree!  First the Pet Supply Depot, then the grocery
    store...
    
    Quick, patch that hole!!

    
    Hmm, lately there's evidence of "somebody" playing around on the "empty
    the pockets here" place on the shelf where my wallet and car keys usually
    end up when I get home...
    
    But I did cover the hole with a wire mesh patch; of course, the "kids"
    spent the next half hour trying to yank it off.  So far it's held.  But
    I worry that Rocky's next discovery will be that he can *make* holes
    in the screen.  A few days ago I heard a racket from the bedroom and
    when I went to investigate I found the "little tyke" (oh he's so cute)
    wedged in between the sliding glass window and the screen, which gave
    enough to let him in but once snuggled into the sandwich he couldn't
    figure out how to get out).
    
    And of course, Old Merlin is no help.  He just watches this all with
    his sage attitude, "well, you know, I've been there, done that, and
    more, you know, I *jumped* from that balcony... (I mean, I never would
    have *fallen*, I meant to do it, did I ever tell you about the time
    I...)
    
    Between Rocky leading escapes onto the balcony and Blueberry leading
    escapes into the hall, Merlin's indifference and Little Robin's "hey
    wait for me but are you sure we're allowed to do this" I long for a
    place with a big atrium where they could be outside while really being
    inside.
    
    len.
    

    
    Oh, I should also mention that Rocky's "species confusion" continues
    unabated.
    
    His latest "saw-it-on-some-TV-animal-show" other species behaviour
    is herding.  He herds old Merlin around.  After doing his "prancing
    pony/walking bear" routine, he walks/runs alongside Merlin, shoulder
    to shoulder, pushing him.  Though Rocky's just a bit larger than
    Merlin, he's got a good five pounds on him, and he's probably strong
    enough to bench press Merlin if he'd stay put for it.
    
    This is probably why, despite the "attention" Rocky lavishes on Merlin,
    Rocky is Merlin's least favorite roommate.  Merlin occasionally gets
    cross with Blueberry, but he docilely lets Robin push him out of his
    favorite places so she can have them.
    
    len.
     

    
    Last night, led by Rocky, the "kittens" broke through the patched
    screen and had another balcony party.  I've got to give him credit, he
    managed to get by it in a way I didn't expect and thus didn't plan for.
    I figured he'd try to pull it off.  Nope, he pushed it through. 
    Because the hole is at the bottom, I could only "sew" the patch to the
    screen along the sides and top of the hole; at the bottom, the patch
    just snugly overlapped the frame of the sliding screen.  So Rocky just
    kept butting his head against it until the bottom slipped up over the
    frame and then bulged out enough for him (and his sisters) to sneak
    through.  Of course, it's a one way "flap" now, so they couldn't get
    back in.
    
    Rocky was very upset this morning when I blocked the glass slider open
    just far enough to let some fresh air in but not enough to allow him to
    wedge himself between the glass and screen.  But he did manage to get
    just his head stuck in there, so I had to pull him out and close it a
    bit more.
    
    And Blueberry and I took a walk (well, I walked, Blueberry trotted)
    down the hall to visit Malone, the orange tabby Maine Coon.  Blueberry
    was very good natured about it, though her tail puffed up to about 3"
    in diameter when she first approached Malone, there were no harsh words
    or arched backs.  Her ears got a little flat for a few seconds, but 
    then she decided Malone was OK and thereafter pretty much ignored him!
    
    len.
    

    Len, maybe it's time to get a new screen from management!  :^)  You are
    lucky they haven't tried to jump off the balcony.  Kelsey is still
    trying to plot his great escape, and sometimes I get very frightened
    that one day he'll manage to do it!
    

          Len you better hide your tools too! He sounds very resourceful
    and may be able to figure out how to move the slider with a screwdriver
    or?? :-) 
    
    bob

    
    Well, this morning, as today promises to be an absoltely gorgeous
    Spring day, I opened the slider a foot, and wedged a bar into the track
    so not even SuperRocky could move it further.  Then, to keep him from
    getting to the screenflap, I wedged the brain coral in between the the
    screen and the glass.
    
    Not ten minutes later, I checked (I've learned never to assume anything
    is Rocky-proof), and Rocky was himself wedged between the screen and
    the glass trying to get over the brain coral and past it - obviously he
    hadn't thought it through much further than that, because he wouldn't
    have been able to turn around to get under the flap.  But he couldn't
    get his rotund little belly into the space, so he was stuck.  (I don't
    know how he managed to get his shoulders in there; he looked so
    frustrated and intent on succeeding at the same time.)  I "verbally
    admonished" him (you know, not yelling, but calmly scolding), and he backed
    himself out, but I decided it would be better not to tempt him, so I wedged
    a large styrofoam packing insert into the space, so that he couldn't get by
    *or* over it.  I'm now imagining that when I get home tonight the styrofoam
    will have been chewed/scratched to bits and all three of them will be out
    partying again...  I definitely to replace the whole screen, probably
    with Kevlar.
    
    It really is a good thing he can't hold anything in those mitts of his,
    I'm sure I'd come home to find the whole door frame dismantled.
    
    BTW, Blueberry has picked up on Rocky's habit of standing up to get
    a better view when she's curious.  Last night she heard something out
    in the hall and stood up quite impressively; she stands even taller
    than Rocky and balances very nicely, thank you. 
    
    len.
    

    Len,
    I call that "meerkating"!  I love when my kitties stand like that
    to see out the door, front legs dangling. :'}
    Karen

    Hi Len,
    
    Yes Meercating, Cinnamon does that!  Just before he finds another cat
    or human to pounce on!
    
    I second the watch your tools warning.  My girls spend most of the day
    on the phone or the internet, talking to their friends.  The Cinny man,
    turns on the TV, (when he can find the controller) and watches
    cartoons.  ;-)
    
    Felines are so SMART!
    
    Sue & Clever Crew

    >I second the watch your tools warning.  My girls spend most of the day
    >on the phone or the internet, talking to their friends.
                                                    ^^^^^^^
    
    you mean "attorneys, financial advisor and personalized shopping
    service"
    
    Deb

    
    Yes, sigh, it is quite true.  the Princess Panther Jane has a better
    credit rating than I do.  (She actually gets "junk" mail from
    bloomingdales.  Must have something to do with the fact that she is
    Chaircat of the Board at Felines Department stores.
    
    She definately spends a lot of time on the phone with her attorneys!
    "The Firm" is so glad to have her referrals too!
    
    Feline with a lot of Purrrsonality,
    
    Sue & HRH Princess Panther Jane
    

I like that, I remember the shots of the meerkats
from Smithsonian a couple years ago. and as for
not walking like that, my Hurricane CAN walk like that
for half a dozen steps or so. Hobbes does a similar
Hind leg walk, they both seem to use it to try to
intimidate each other (and Spike who just ignores 
the both of them). I always want to build a little
model of Tokyo and let them walk through it
(preferably with a video camera running :-) ).

Thanks,
Keith

    >>the both of them). I always want to build a little
    >>model of Tokyo and let them walk through it
    >>(preferably with a video camera running :-) ).
    
    Brilliant! Put me down for a copy :-))

    
    Rocky will walk a few steps on his hind legs, especially if he thinks
    it'll get him a head rub.  He also does it when he wants to look
    especially ominous to old Merlin (though he usually does it from behind
    Merlin, so there's nothing for him to see until Rocky falls on him).
    
    (BTW, I have seen lions and tigers trained to walk upright like this.)
    
    len.
     

    Len,
    
    WHERE ARE YOU!!!
    
    You haven't written here since April 19.  Your notes on the kids were
    my only break in the day and I'm having withdrawal symptoms.
    
    Especially in these times around the company, just sign in to say Hi!
    
    A devoted fan,
    
    Linda
    
    p.s. someday I am going to make it over to your site to see pictures of
    the kittens.  I've been following their exploits since the beginning.

    
    I was on vacation in Barbados (hey, someone's got to help them make the
    transition from a sugar economy to a tourism economy).
    
    I like Barbados (it was our 3rd visit) *almost* as much as I missed my
    cats.  But missing them was almost made up for by the cats we met
    there.  I'll post my Barbados cat stories in the Cats in Paradise note.
    
    My clan has literally been "all over me" since I got back.  Merlin
    especially.  Being away from the old guy for a week has made it very
    obvious to me just how old he is.  I was struck by this when I had to
    to remind Rocky that Merlin is *18 times* as old as he is.
    
    Rocky has led several escapes through the hole in the screen onto the
    balcony, including one solo escape at 4 AM the morning after I got back
    from vacation.  I have since found a temporary fix using two of those
    expandable window screens, that has so far (i.e., for two days) foiled
    his escape attempts.
    
    The cats "helped" me pack, which mostly consists of sitting on the
    clothes already in the suitcase.  Then they played "hide the toy"
    with the keys that lock the suitcase.  The first time I found them.
    The second time I didn't.  Luckily I had a spare set to bring with me.
    I found the original set when I unpacked in Barbados, tucked in a
    pocket of my carryon bag.  "See Dad, just foolin'", I could hear them
    saying.
    
    I was able to resist the urge to call home and talk to the cats through
    the answering machine, but I still feel guilty about it...
    
    len.
       

    
    Rocky learned to get past my improvised barrier, and I returned home
    from work one evening last week to find the little guy out on the balcony
    crying to be let back in.  So I decided to get serious, and ordered an
    industrial strength barrier from Drs. x and y (the names escape me just
    now)'s catalog; while I was at it I decided to order one of those window
    shelf gadgets.
    
    Well, the barrier is very impressive, and has succeeded nicely in
    containing Rocky's adventurism.  This will give me some breathing space
    to properly rescreen the slider, which now has a hole *I* can practically
    fit through...
    
    Blueberry and Robin immediately adopted the window shelf as their
    favorite place to sack out; Merlin and Rocky seem less impressed, but
    now there's less competition for their favorite LLBean "dog" beds.
    
    But the real adventure this weekend had almost nothing to do with cats;
    it involved rescuing two young squirrels whose nest in Sandy's chimney
    had apparently fallen apart, dropping the squirrels into Sandy's
    fireplace, where they then managed to get through the ash grate and
    fall into the ash pit accessible only from the basement.  The little
    guys were seriously panicked, and huddled up against the back wall of
    the pit.  I improvised a snare from a broom handle, a few eyescrews and
    a length of nylon rope, but it proved unnecessary; wearing a pair of 
    heavy gardening gloves, I was able to just reach in and grab them (one
    at a time) and deposit them in the cat carrier for the short trip
    outside.  Their mom was sitting on the top of the chimney looking
    forlorn and wondering how to rescue her babies.  But I think Sandy was
    more hysterical than mom from concern for their welfare (they really are
    almost as cute as kittens) and discomfort with any small, fast, possibly
    scratching/biting critter.  When we let the kids out, mom came down
    off the roof to corral them.  She probably took up residence in the
    chimney during this past winter; Sandy's going to have a screen
    installed in the chimney to discourage her from moving back in.
    
    len.
     
    
    

    
    Rocky's learned how to get over the pet barrier and slither down the
    space between it and the screen, and thence out the hole he's enlarged.
    Several different blocking strategies have failed to deter him. 
    Despite his, uh, "thickness", he seems, when highly motivated, to be
    able to render himself pancake thin.  We're starting to call him
    Houdini.
    
    He especially likes to do this at or shortly before sunrise.  Blueberry
    and Robin are utterly envious of his skill, but just as unwilling to
    try to follow him.  So they sit in the window and watch.
    
    Sigh.
    
    [BTW, the squirrels returned several times, and were dutifully removed
    and released outdoors.  Now the chimney's been screened off, so they
    presumably won't be visiting Sandy anymore.]
    
    len.
      

    
    Saturday I replaced the screen.  But in the evening, the cats were
    "velcroing" their claws to the new screen in a vain attempt to swat the
    buggies flying around on the other side.  So, I figured, I can put the
    pet barrier up in front of the screen and that will keep their claws
    off it.  And of course, Rocky's already seen that there's no escape hole
    in the new screen...
    
    3:30 AM Sunday morning, I hear a racket accompanied by pitiful meowing.
    
    It's Rocky, wedged upside down between the screen (which is much
    tighter than the old one) and the pet barrier, down where the escape
    hole is supposed to be.
    
    Well, he does learn quickly, given the right lesson...
    
    len.
    

    
    It's Kitten Adoption Day!!!
    
    One year ago today I made the pilgrimage to the Pat Brody Shelter,
    planning to take home two kittens, but coming home with three.  I remember
    Rocky repeatedly importuning me, "take me too, mister, please take me
    too", and I tell him every day how glad I am I listened to him.  I
    remember the long drive home with my three little friends in the
    carrier on the seat beside me, driving one handed so I could keep my
    other hand's fingers poking through the door of the carrier to pet
    their fuzzy little noggins and let them chew on me, talking continuously
    to them, telling them about Merlin, and how pretty/handsome they were,
    and what a great time we were all going to have together.
    
    And it has been the greatest time ever.  I can't think about them
    without smiling...
    
    len.
       

    Ohhh...your note gave me goosebumps because I can just feel
    the love in your writing!!!!
    
    Those three guys/gals do not know how lucky they are the day
    you walked in the shelter!!!   
    
    Sandy

    Len,
    
     You're so wonderful! I will miss your stories sorely. Many days they
    have been the only thing bright in an otherwise BLAH day. I hope I see
    you at cat shows in the future.
    
    Love,
    
     Yonee
    

    
    It's finally dawned on me that old Merlin has reverted completely to his
    pre-kitten era "begging for attention" behaviour.  So it's taken a
    year for the effect of the kittens (now fullgrown cats) to "wear off".
    He follows me around, sits and looks up at me like "well, are you going
    to pick me up and hold me?"  If he decides I've somehow managed to
    overlook his presence, he meows plaintively.  This is precious indeed,
    but sometimes it has unintended consequences.  I have been running a
    series of "fractal image" computations on my PC, and before I discovered
    the secret to making them go fast, computing a single picture was taking
    24 hours, and bringing my 66MHz 486 to its knees.  Of course, in addition
    to the Windows menu interface, there's a "hotkey" mode that somehow got
    enabled.  So my old buddy walks across the keyboard trying to get in my
    face, and hits the key that means "Reset All Parameters" and twelve hours
    of computation disappears in an instant to be replaced by the default
    startup fractal.
    
    So I picked him up and gave him a big hug and told him what a bad boy he
    was, obliterating a half day's work.  
    
    I think he's getting hard of hearing; you can "sneak up" on him and
    startle him, so I'm careful to make sure he's sees me coming.  He also
    seems to be getting "hard of smelling".  Sometimes it feels like taking
    care of an old parent, except I've watched him grow old from kittenhood,
    starting out so much younger than me and now he's so much older.
    
    len.
    

    Hi Len,
    
    With our old boy Sherry, who became quite deaf, we would make sure he
    knew we were nearby by stepping a little harder on the floor.  He could
    feel the vibrations through his feet even if he was up on the couch. 
    
    -dana
    

    
    The threesome made the annual pilgrimage to the vet for their
    vaccination updates and checkup.  They're all doing fine, and were
    exceptionally well behaved while being poked and prodded.
    
    I took their carrier out in the morning and left it open for them to
    get used to the idea of it (it having been about 6 months since they
    last rode in it).  Rocky, of course, walked right into it and made himself
    comfortable.
    
    Later that day when it was time for their visit, I had to "encourage"
    Robin and Blueberry to join their brother, but when we got to the
    office and into the examining room, they refused to come out.  Time for
    some more "encouragement".
    
    But when the exam was over, I picked the carrier up, set it on the
    examining table and opened the door.  All three walked right in, as
    if it was a bus or subway car clearly labeled "Home".
    
    I was worried that Merlin might revert to his "spend three days in the
    back corner of the kitchen counter" behaviour when they arrived back
    home (as he had each previous time one or more of the then kittens
    made a visit to the vet), but he seems to have accepted them so totally
    that he just ignored their return.
    
    len.
    

    len...
    
    "encouragement", you say?  with my two, i have to stand the carrier on
    end so they "fall out" on the examination table!  usually, though, they
    will willingly return to their carrier, so it must be labeled "home",
    as is yours...
    
    diane w/stella and 17 pounds of "i don't wanna get outta no carrier"
    stanley (also nicknamed "the vet hisser" 'cuz the only time in his life
    he has ever hissed at a human has been chez le vet...) 

    
    Are you folks saying the you put more than one cat in ther carrier at
    one time? I never thought they would enjoy that so with my three we
    take three separate trips to the vet, duh!
    
    Shaw

    
    i have two carriers, so each cat can ride alone in comfort.  besides, my
    cats (well, stanley, anyway) are so big, they wouldn't fit in the same
    carrier.  but i take them both in to the vet at the same time, so that
    if one "smells funny", they *both* do!  of course, i "look funny"
    lugging a carrier in each hand into the vet's office...
    
    diane                                           

    
    Yep, I figured the visit would be less traumatic all around if all
    three went together.  The folks at the office seem to enjoy having a
    family-full at one time too.  I have a big carrier, so the three of
    them fit, albeit a bit snuggly, but that seems to make them less wary
    of the ride.  Of course, the thing is *HEAVY*.
    
    len.
    

    I have four cats that need to go for the annual checkup...my vet books
    me for two appts to allow ample time.  I DO get a discount on shots. 
    He has offered to come to the house to perform checkups but I can get
    two in separate carriers, one loves the floor of the car (backseat..
    hugs the hump in the floor), and the fourth justs sits with a stunned
    look on her face in a box that she fits in snugly.  The box lover also
    usually falls asleep waiting her turn to be poked & prodded.  The two
    females that usually hiss at each other at home end up cuddling and
    falling asleep during the office visit.  
    
    My vet still can't figure out how I get all four cats in the car for
    one visit.  Having power windows on the car is a great advantage.  I
    put my mother in the car, turn the key so the windows will work, I put
    the harness on the cat fooling them that its time to go out, when
    outside, I scoop them up and bring them to the car where Mom puts the 
    window down enough to toss kitty in the car.  And then zip the window
    back up!  Nobody tries to get out of the car when I enter the drivers
    side.  Just got my notice for booster shots & such, so I'll be
    utilizing this technique real soon!

    
    No room at the inn.  No room at the inn.  No room at the inn.
    
    Well, ok, the owner's suite might be available...
    
    As Sandy Merritt noted elsewhere, (my) Sandy and I spent an afternoon
    the weekend before last out at the Pat Brody Shelter, taking pictures
    of the cats for possible promotional use.  I recited the mantra
    continually - no room at the inn, I have enough cats, no room at the
    inn, I have enough cats...
    
    Well, there was this little kitten.  A very dark brown tabby with what
    looks like some Maine Coon in him, and the cutest little face and the
    most wonderful markings.  Subconsciously, I took about a half dozen
    pictures just of him...  Something made sure I checked the name on his
    collar.  And wrote it down when I got home.  When I got the pictures back,
    I kept lingering over the ones of "that one".
    
    You all know how this turned out, don't you?
    
    Last night I went out to the Shelter "to drop off the pictures".  I
    just happened to take along my carrier.  And my checkbook.
    
    And I came home with 9 week old "Pretty Boy Floyd".  (For you young'uns
    and ferners, Pretty Boy Floyd is a legendary American gangster from the
    '20s.)
    
    He's the runt of the litter, and we need to get some meat on his little
    bones, but what he lacks in size he more than makes up for in sheer
    gorgeousness and purrsonality.  His purr engine, which cranks up
    instantly if you just look at him, shames the already outsized rumblers
    of my other four. 
    
    Rocky's the most put out by this new arrival.  He's been nothing but
    hisses and growls.  Robin doesn't know quite what to make of Floyd;
    she'll watch him from a distance, sometimes with eyes that seem to be
    throwing daggers, but unlike Rocky, she's not overtly hostile. 
    Blueberry wants to be his Mom; she won't let him out of her sight, but
    she hasn't been able to work up the courage to snuggle with him yet.
    Merlin performed his ritual "hide on the kitchen counter" routine for
    about ten minutes, then decided it was really no big deal and proceeded
    to ignore Floyd.
    
    Floyd stretched himself out on the shoulder of one of my Very Big
    Bears, and once he was sleeping peacefully, Rocky snuck up on him and
    whacked him.  Rocky got scolded, and just in case Rocky's dominant male
    instincts become too much for him to resist, Floyd's been placed in
    protective custody in my bedroom, with his own facilities, and
    Blueberry for companionship.
    
    Floyd slept beside me last night as if he'd been doing so all along.
    
    Now there really is "no room at the inn".  Really.
    
    len (who wishes you could all see the smile on his face and share the
    feeling).
    

    Hah!  I love it!  Congratulations on the new addition.  Love the name.
    
    dana & Spunk

    
    
    	Congrats Len!
    
    	I really wish I had my own house so I could add to the kitty
    	count.  (and throw in a puppy-dog for good measure)
    
    	Especially after seeing that Aby last night....sigh.
    
    	Yay for you!  And PBF is a lucky boy!  (for the record
    	I think a rock band also has the name Pretty Boy Floyd)
    
    	JJ
    

    
    Oh goody, just when we thought the houseld was getting too grown up
            for cute kitty stories ;-) Now we can look forward to some
            new adventures (hopefully daily).
    
            We have also been thinking of possibility of a new baby ;-)
            our youngest, Keesha is almost one years old (Well ten months)
            everyone misses a little brat around the house climbing 
            curtains and getting into mischief (sp). Our only concern also
            in Tomba the male Coon. We keep hearing male cats are not too
            nice when it comes to little kittens. 
    
            
    
    Shaw
            

    
    re .172 - There is a band named Pink Floyd.  I don't know about Pretty
    Boy Floyd.
    
    len.
    

    RE: .173
    
    > We keep hearing male cats are nottoo
    > nice when it comes to little kittens.
     
    
    Actually, it has been my experience that the male cats accept kittens
    much beter than females (unless, of course, it is their own kittens).
    In fact, it seems that the more macho the male, the more of a shine
    that they seem to take take to the infant.
    
    Deb

    Congratulations, Len.  Floyd is a very lucky kitty to have found
    such a great Dad.  I'm looking forward to lots of fun stuff to read
    from you about your new little sweetie.  Here's to a happy life
    for you and all the furries, new and old and inbetween, at your house!!
    
    Carl

    
    
    	Len, I know...I'm quite familiar with Pink Floyd.  =)
    
    	But I'm certain there is also a band by the
    	name of Pretty Boy Floyd.  The band Ugly Kid Joe
    	called themselves that because they were touring with
    	PBF and didn't have a name before the tour started.
    	So they took the opposite of what Pretty Boy Floyd
    	was and came up with Ugly Kid Joe.  =)  How's that for
    	useless information.  =)  They're kind of a heavy thrash 
    	alternative type band I think.  So if this little guy
    	tears up the house...it'll be fitting!
    
    	JJ
    

    My husband called one of our cats Floyd after the group Pink Floyd.
    He's a great guy and I'm sure your Floyd will turn out just as well.
    
    
    Kirsty

    
    Well, so far Floyd's holding his own.  Rocky tried to get a few more
    whacks in, but by Sunday morning Floyd had started hissing and whacking
    back, so Rocky's now taking a somewhat more diplomatic approach.  Merlin
    still ignores the little guy unless he gets "too close", which seems to
    depend on Merlin's mood.  Blueberry still follows him around, and gets
    closer, but there's still no body contact.  And Robin still watches warily
    from a distance.  Floyd can outcorner and outaccelerate all of them, so
    he often loses his followers, and they look around bewildered, wondering
    where he disappeared to. 
    
    Poor little guy, I feel so bad for him.  He doesn't have anyone but me
    to snuggle with.  He's *so* tiny, but he's eating voraciously, and he's
    such a sweetheart.  He plays like mad for an hour, then naps for an
    hour, then plays like mad, ...  I *instantly* dismiss any thoughts of
    a similar aged companion for him...  Really, I do. 
    
    He has his first vet visit late this afternoon.  He's got the "shelter
    sneezes" and an occasionally "leaky" eye, but he's eating/drinking/peeing/
    pooping like a big boy.
    
    I really am at a loss for words to describe how beautiful this little
    fellow is.  And while there's this nagging voice in the background
    that keeps saying "you shouldn't have, you shouldn't have", it's not
    like I had any choice in the matter.  So I just say, "shut up, it's
    done, it was inevitable.".
    
    And walk around with this idiot grin on my face...
    
    len.
    

    Len - what great news!!  I laughed when Sandy told me you were
    coming to the shelter to "take pictures"... hmmm ... sounded like
    the ultimate excuse to go home with another baby!!
    
    Can't wait to hear new and exciting stories about the latest
    addition.  Congrats!!
    
    Pam

    
    Pretty Boy went for his introduction to Westborough Animal Hospital
    yesterday.  He's fine, but for a slight fever that's probably due to his
    cold.  He's on Amoxycillin and eye ointment for the duration, but it's
    pretty mild so far and this should help him knock it down.
    
    He's decided to use the Big Cats' litter box, and Rocky no longer feels
    compelled to whack him, so we're making rapid progress in integrating
    him into the family.
    
    BTW, I *really did* take pictures at the shelter, about 100 in all!
    And I *really didn't* go out there planning or expecting to have my
    heart stolen by a little kitten.  There was just something very special
    about Floyd...
    
    So, our paws are crossed for the next steps - some grooming and napping
    together.  He's just too much of a little darling to be the loner of
    the troupe.
    
    len.
     

    
    Floyd tried to impress us all last night by booksledding down Magazine
    Mountain, standing up no less, as if he were riding a surfbook.  But he's
    got some room for improvement; he was only hanging 10, and there's 20
    of those little toes available...
    
    Floyd's discovered that Big Cat Tails are great fun to play with - they
    move by themselves, they're sort of mousish (they're too long, but they
    *are* furry), and they pretty much stay in the same general vicinity.
    
    Rocky's no longer trying to whack Floyd, but now he's adopting the
    Dracula strategy.  Floyd's already got the "roll over on my back and
    kick" response down pat.
    
    Last night I had Floyd, Robin and Merlin arrayed on various parts of
    me, with Blueberry sitting nearby and Rocky alongside.  This would be
    wonderful in the winter (a "five cat night"?), but in the summer it
    tests my willingness to defer to the gang's desires.
    
    len.
    

    sounds like he is loving his new home!
    
    Deb

    
    re .183 - if his tail carriage (always straight up) and purr-minutes
    are any indication, he's One Happy Kitten.
    
    len (One Happy Dad).
    

    
    Oh yes, one curious thing I realized last night: when Rocky, Robin and
    Blueberry were kittens, I really wished that they would never grow up.
    With Floyd, I can't wait until he's grown up and fully reveals the
    magnificence I see in him as potential.
    
    len.
     

    
    Floyd seems to have settled in nicely and has now decided to seize the
    initiative.  He's asserting himself quite aggressively, "playing" with
    everyone but Merlin, whom he's figured out can't be bothered to respond
    except with a growl and a hiss.  Robin runs and Floyd gives chase,
    Blueberry patiently abides his "attacks" and gently holds him off with
    her paws, trying to lick him in the meantime, and Rocky tries gamely to
    retake his presumed position as "dominant male" without actually fighting
    with Floyd.  Floyd's got the "lay of the land", and has already got a
    set of favorite lounging places and hideouts.  
    
    Floyd's eating just as aggressively; in the little more than a week he's
    been with us, he's become noticeably less "boney" and his coat is
    fluffing up and getting a bit glossier.
    
    Floyd's also "bonding" with me; a couple of times this weekend when I
    was absorbed in something I'd discover that Floyd had snuck up
    unobtrusively and stretched out nearby.
    
    Has anybody else noticed the delightful smell of kittens?  I'm serious;
    not the smells associated with "bodily functions", but the smell of
    their coat.  It's one of those great natural smells like wet grass on a
    spring morning, or the air after a thunderstorm, or the smell in the
    air that says "it's going to snow".  Maybe it's the smell that less
    fortunate mortals are allergic to?
    
    Finally, it occurred to me that Floyd's surfing down that pile of magazines
    could have been called a "Floydian Slip".
    
    len.
         

    smile smile smile.....I just got back from two weeks vacations
    and couldn't wait to read how the introductions went!!!  It's sounds
    like Floyd is fitting right in and is one LUCKY kitty to have found
    such a wonderful loving home.
    
    Hmmmm....I still think you should have taken one of his brothers too...
   but of course your talking to someone who is way over her Cat Max and
    has been stating the "inn is full" for about 3 years!!!!
    
    The pictures Len took of the shelter cats are absolutely beautiful....
    I do have a full set of them so I can show the rest of the shelter
    volunteers...so if anyone is interested in seeing them...just let me know!!!
    Thank you so much Len for taking the pic's...and thanks for giving
    Floyd a wonderful home!!!!
    
    Sandy
    
    
    

    "Floydian slip" !!!  You really crack me up!!!
    
    :-)		:-)		:-)		
    
    Pam

    I know and love that smell - I sometimes bury my face in Smokey's fur
    while listening to the HiFi. I thing allergies come not from the
    smells, but from the broken-down tiny end pieces of cat hair - kinda
    dust. My mother was allergic to her Birmas, the Siamese is OK with her.
    
    Nat

    
    Floyd is really taking over.
    
    He's repaying the "big cats" in some sort of inverse to the sort of
    attention they first paid him.  Blueberry, who was the most solicitous
    of him, is the subject of random attacks, which she endures and
    carefully fends off, without responding in kind.  She then goes and
    takes it out on her little sister Robin.  Robin, who kept her distance
    from Floyd, gets chased but not attacked.  Merlin, who greeted Floyd
    with hisses and spits, gets head butted and side-swiped by the little
    guy, who seems to be going out of his way to ingratiate himself with
    The Old One.  Merlin doesn't know quite what to make of this affection,
    but his reaction is getting less irate and more tolerant.
    
    And Rocky.  Poor Rocky.  I came home the other night and all the cats
    but Rocky came to greet me.  I called Rocky several times, but he still
    didn't appear.  So I went looking for him, and finally found him in The
    Place of Shame.  When Rocky's been humiliated, he goes and settles in
    next to the litter boxes.  I don't know what Floyd did, but he's got
    Rocky, who's easily three times his size and five times his weight,
    totally intimidated.  This is the same Rocky who just days ago was first
    whacking Floyd and then trying to "strangle" him.  So, Rocky's getting
    lots of extra attention and affection, and being told that even if he has
    lost the psychwar for dominance, his daddy still loves him anyway. 
    Last night I caught the two of them sleeping, Floyd draped over Rocky,
    and neither the least bit concerned, though it probably occurred
    accidentally.  Fortunately a loaded camera was ready to hand.
    
    Picking the "best" single picture of each my crew from the hundreds I have
    (even Floyd is already the subject of a half dozen "keepers") for the
    Feliners' Picture Book is going to be a real challenge...
    
    Floyd's also found his favorite Play Prey, a mouse sized scrap from a
    rabbit pelt that he likes to sleep on.  He carries his little furry
    mouthful everywhere he goes.
    
    I note that the question of whether or not I "really" should have
    adopted Floyd just never comes up anymore.  I can't believe it's only
    been two weeks.
    
    len.
    
    
     

    
    Maybe a smilar case, except these two are both girls. Before we brought
    home our Keesha (12 weeks at the time) Ziba are almost two year old was
    such a card. She was still acting like a kitten and getting into 
    trouble all the time, knocking expensive crystal off the shelves and 
    vases on top of the T.V. or chasing her imaginary mice down the hall. 
    When Keesha entered the scene, Ziba very quickly matured. I sometimes
    wish that she could still be as mischevious as she was and not just 
    sitting around meditating.  I wonder if Floyd is going to push 
    Rocky into maturity real quick ;-)
    
    Shaw

    
    I don't know his exact birthdate, but I hereby declare Merlin
    officially 19 years old, it can't be off either way by more than a few
    weeks.
    
    I got home the other night to find the famous screen flapping in the
    breeze.  Someone (all guesses but Rocky Muscleman immediately
    disqualified) hit the screen hard enough to pop the "spline" out of the
    groove that holds the screen to the frame.  And of course, this gave
    *all* the cats, including my Pretty Boy, easy access to the balcony.
    But a quick headcount showed that no one had gone high diving, and I
    had a rapt audience watching me through the glass slider while I
    resplined the screen with a thicker spline.
    
    Floyd is now, for all practical purposes, fully integrated into the group.
    
    I had the pleasure of meeting the adoptor of two of JJ's kittens, to
    learn to our delight that she had also adopted one of Floyd's siblings,
    an almost identical twin.
    
    Floyd is going through his TV phase.  He sits in front of it watching
    intently, and like Rocky used to do, gets upset if I turn it off.  He
    even races me to the TV in the morning and stands pawing at the screen
    as if asking me to "turn on the picture box, Daddy".
    
    If anything, Floyd has re-kittenized Rocky.  Last night the two of them
    tried to out do one another in the "jump like a rabbit and run like crazy"
    event.  Rocky doesn't have quite the power to weight ratio that Floyd
    has, so he ran out of steam a little early...
    
    Floyd's also discovered the bathtub as a play arena.  Rocky frequently
    joins him there, where they wrestle and play "try to climb the smooth
    sides".  Then bang, over the sides and race through the apartment,
    visiting each room at least once, and then back to the tub to see who's
    "it".
    
    Boy, I can't wait until Rocky teaches Floyd how to climb the drapes...
    
    len.
    
    
    

    Congratulations and Happy Birthday to Merlin, such a Grand Ol' Man!!!!
    Good stories, keep em comin'
    Karen

    Wow, happy B-day to Merlin!  That's quite an accomplishment - making it
    to 19 years old!!  That's because he has such a great Dad.
    
    I accidentally locked Taja out on the balcony last Saturday.  All 3
    cats were out there with me (there's a storage closet too that I keep
    open so they can forage around and play), and after a time all 3 went
    back inside... or so I thought.  I closed the closet door, went inside
    and closed the slider, then went into the living room to read.  A short
    time later I heard this loud Siamese wailing, but Taja always does that
    so I thought nothing of it.  But after awhile it sounded almost
    distressing, so I got up to investigate and sure enough, there he was
    pacing back and forth outside screaming at me to open the door.  He
    must have been in the closet which is why I didn't see him and
    thankfully I didn't shut it hard and he pushed it open with his body.
    
    I felt so awful, as it was so hot outside and what if I *had* shut the
    closet door hard... I might never have realized he was out there at all
    until it was too late!
    
    The good news... Taja shows little interest in going on the balcony
    now.  Perhaps this is a tactic you can try!!
    
    

    
    I don't know if it's because he's got the Three Mouseketeers and Wise
    Old Merlin to watch, but Floyd seems to be catching on awfully fast.
    Maybe he's just a little "Feleinstein" in the making?  It took Robin,
    Rocky and Blueberry almost a year to recognize their names and come
    when I called, but if I call "where's my pretty boy Floyd" he comes
    running.  He already knows that the sound of bowls being washed means
    fresh food, and that noises from the kitchen often mean "special treat".
    
    Blueberry is so patient with him.  He continues to "attack" her, and
    she'll put up with it for a while, licking him to try to calm him down,
    but when she's had enough she takes him by the throat and holds him
    until he begs for mercy.  When I hear that little squeal of his I go
    looking for them, but she's already let him go.
    
    len.
    
     

    
    I caught Rocky washing Floyd's face this morning...
    
    len.
    

    
    I forgot to mention that Floyd went to the vet yesterday for his next
    distemper shot and his rabies vaccination.  He was pretty good about it,
    but Floyd had just eaten and his little tummy was nice and round.  The
    vet said "round tummy, roundworms", I said, "no no, he's been wormed,
    he just ate", but Floyd got another dose of Strongid anyway.
    
    So, poor little guy, all this squeezing of his full little belly, we
    didn't make it home to the litter box in time, and Floyd had to relieve
    himself in the corner of his carrier!  A wonderful experience in a
    hot closed car waiting for the air conditioning to take effect; leave
    Floyd in the carrier and open the windows, or let him out and savor the
    fragrance?  We chose the latter, so all I'd have to clean was the towel
    lining the carrier, and not Floyd as well.  Thankfully, it's a short
    trip.
    
    And of course, once home, in the bathroom, cleaning up, everyone comes
    to investigate.  "Daddy, Floyd had an accident, huh?"  "Can I help?"
    "Does this mean it's ok to go here now?"
    
    len.
      

    
>    So, poor little guy, all this squeezing of his full little belly, we
>    didn't make it home to the litter box in time, and Floyd had to relieve
>    himself in the corner of his carrier!  A wonderful experience in a
>    hot closed car waiting for the air conditioning to take effect; leave
>    Floyd in the carrier and open the windows, or let him out and savor the
>    fragrance?  We chose the latter, so all I'd have to clean was the towel
>    lining the carrier, and not Floyd as well.  Thankfully, it's a short
>    trip.
    
    A-ha!
    
    You were thinking that you were safe in this conference, weren't you,
    Len? You would never write this to me in mail.
    
    ;-)
    
    Lale

    
    For those of you watching and wondering what that was about, Lale is
    thinking about getting a cat, and I told her that cats *never* have
    "accidents".
    
    It's not fair to extrapolate from this incident, as when his litter box
    is available, Floyd (and all the rest of the crew) has never had
    an accident.  Cars are a special trial for cats.
    
    len.
      

    
    
    Accidents are ok by me, btw.
    
    Accident is just that, an accident. It is not common practice, they
    happen only once in a while. 
    
    I thought your story was cute, couldn't resist to reply. When you
    told me "accidents don't happen", I took it as "accidents don't
    happen often". I am sure they happen and I can live with that.
    
    Lale
    

    
    Well, I don't really consider this an accident.  Floyd did the best he
    could under the circumstances.  Two other stories reinforce my belief
    that cats fail to use their litter boxes only under the most
    extraordinary circumstances.
    
    Many many many years ago, I had a cat named Sydney, who was an outdoor
    cat.  Sydney was hit by a car and broke his hip.  While his hip was
    mending, he was confined to my room on the second floor of our house.
    Sydney's litter box was in the basement, so I gave him a "temporary"
    litter box in my room.  As Sydney could not support himself on his
    rear legs until his hip mended, I figured he would use this box in
    preference to trying to make it to the basement and back.  Wrong. 
    After a day or two I noticed the bedroom litter box remained pristine,
    and eventually I caught Sydney dragging himself up and down the stairs
    with his front legs to use the "correct" litter box.
    
    More recently, when Merlin was terrified by the arrival of three small
    kittens into hiding in the back corner of the kitchen counter, he
    relieved himself in the sink (right into the drain!) rather than risk
    a foray out to his box, or having an "accident" on the counter or the
    floor.
    
    len.
      

    Len,
    
    My sister's cat used to go in the sink too... with perfect aim down the
    drain!  She never could understand why her husband got so upset about
    it.  We both thought it a pretty novel and bright idea!
    

    re: .202
    >        She never could understand why her husband got so upset about
    >it.
    
    I'm not sure how to phrase this delacitly, but here goes. Have you ever
    had a cat "mark" something metal? Cat urine can corroide some metals
    (like steel) very easily. If the plumbing wasn't PCV piping, he might
    be afraid that it could cause some problems.
    
    Deb

    
    It's interesting watching Floyd develop.  His legs are long and gangly,
    and his paws seems to be getting bigger faster than the rest of him.
    His tail gets fluffier almost day by day, and he's starting to develop
    a prominent ruff on his chest.  His ear tufts are already almost half
    an inch long, and he's only 3 months old.
    
    He's now fully accepted by the rest of the crew, though sometimes he
    plays a little rough.  He's learned not to mess with old Merlin, but he
    still tries to befriend by sidling up along side him and giving him
    gentle head butts.  And best of all, he really loves his daddy...
    
    len.
     

    That's good to hear! I especially think kittens are cute when they are
    at that phase where their paws and ears (aka satalitte dishes) are way
    out of proportion for the rest of their little bodies.
    
    Before long his little body is going to start getting longer!
    
    Deb

    
    Floyd continues to grow.  His fur coat is coming in *very* nicely, it
    feels like cashmere.  His ears are already bigger than his grown up
    buddies'.  His latest game is to chase his tail in the bathtub, but
    only in the bathtub!  He likes to chase the other cats' tails too,
    but that quickly turns into a wrestling match.  Only old Merlin doesn't
    "enjoy" playing with Floyd, but Floyd's still too naive to run away
    from Merlin's surly meow-growl and stands there looking at him like
    "huh, what, don't you wanna wrestle?"  At least Floyd's smart enough
    not to play-attack Merlin like he does everyone else (even me).
    
    I've found Floyd sleeping with and co-grooming Rocky, Robin and
    Blueberry now, so he's clearly been accepted as one of the gang.
    
    I think Floyd's nickname is going to be ThunderBelly, between the
    sound of his PurrEngine and the borbourygmy (however it's spelled -
    it's the digestive noises full tummies make) from his fat little
    tummy - he's a nonstop eater.
    
    len.
        

    
    Floyd's now in his teething and learning how to hunt stage.  He chews
    on anything, especially the buttons on my shirts.  He seems to
    understand that there's flesh underneath there somewhere, so he tries
    to work his little muzzle between the buttons and sometimes manages to
    nip me.  He also runs (gallops) back and forth from room to room,
    carrying some play prey in his mouth.  I'm finding little piles of toys
    left next to his food dishes every morning...
    
    len.
    

    > I'm finding little piles of toys
    > left next to his food dishes every morning...
    
    What *is* that behavior?!  Skrufy [sic], our "mighty pillow hunter",
    religiously deposits his pillows around, and frequently IN, his
    dry-food dish.  My best friend's cat Abby has one mouse which must be
    kept in a cabinet, because unless Abby is supervised with it, she'll
    put it IMMEDIATELY in her water dish.  (She doesn't do that with any
    other toys, though.)
    
    Are they sacred objects to be kept on the Food Altar?  Are they
    actually Food of an Exalted Nature, or Potential Food (emergency
    reserves)?  Food which is Not Quite Dead and needs to be tortured a little
    more?  ]:3
    
    Leslie  

    yes!  my old siamese cissy (rip in kitty heaven) used to catch crickets
    (and roaches, when we used to have them, until she exterminated them)
    and then torture and dismember them and leave the "parts" right next to
    her food and water bowls.  i figured it was to get my attention, since
    she knew i always went to the bowls first thing in the AM to fill them
    up...
    
    diane w/stella (a good cricket torturer in her own right) & stanley
    (let the women do the work, i'd rather watch...)
                                                    

    
    I think it's a reciprocal offering of food; I think they believe that 
    when we leave each morning we go hunting for strange can shaped animals
    with very tough skin.  We're gone all day because we're such lousy
    hunters, and we have to use weird contraptions to get to the yummy
    stuff inside.  But who cares, we hunt for them, and the stuff is pretty
    good, so they show us they're better hunters and bring their catch to
    the same place where we bring ours. 
    
    len.
    

    It's been 18 days since the last Floyd and the Gang update!!!!
    
    Len,  don't you know how much people look forward to your notes? 
    Things are pretty grim within the company (at least here at NQO) and
    one of my pleasures is to sign in at lunch to read your notes.  I see
    so many of my cats antics in yours but the way you express them makes
    it easy to visualize while reading.
    
    Please let us in on the gangs doings.
    
    Linda

    
    Well, not much has been happening.  I don't want to sound redundant.
    You know, Floyd continues to get big, he's incredibly cute, he's good
    friends with everyone (except Merlin, who just wants to be left alone
    sitting nose to nose on his Daddy's chest), he wrestles the big cats
    all the time, he's fascinated by the bathtub, he already knows his
    name, he's started climbing the screens but hasn't picked up climbing
    the drapes (yet) from Rocky, his tail is unbelievably bushy, the rest
    of his coat is sleek and shiny/glossy, he eats like a little horse, he
    has about 14 different play-prey toys that he carries everywhere, etc.,
    etc., etc.
    
    I took Floyd down the hall a few nights ago to visit Malone (who used
    to come down and sit outside my door communing with Robin).  Malone's
    a real Maine Coon (papers and all); Floyd enjoyed exploring Malone's
    apartment while Malone followed him around, no hissing or spitting or
    anything (well, just once at the beginning, just so Malone understood
    who was really the boss cat, regardless of size).
    
    Blueberry now regularly asks to be "helped" up to Rocky's no-longer-private
    lair on top of the bookcase.  Sometimes Rocky decides he'll show her by
    racing up the drapes when it looks like I'm about to give her an
    assist.  She'll stay up there for a while and then ask to be helped
    down, but if she gets impatient she'll make the big leap.  She's also
    quite vocal about asking for her tartar-control treats.
    
    So, pretty much business as usual.
    
    len.
       

    
    I've noticed an aggressive trait that seems to be unique to Floyd.
    When the other cats "play rough", they routinely go for the throat;
    this is pretty common cat behaviour.  But Floyd's the only house cat
    I've seen go for the hind quarters, which is a very common "take down"
    strategy for the big predator cats like lions and jaguars.
    
    Floyd's quite the little hunter...  
    
    len.
    

    
    I told him repeatedly to be careful.
    
    But no, he'd seen Blueberry do it and figured anything that big girl
    could do he could do too.
    
    Specifically, walk around the rim of the tub to get a different
    perspective on things.
    
    So, Floyd fell in a full bathtub this morning.
    
    He hasn't learned how to walk on water yet, and he's not really big
    enough to leverage himself out, so I had to fish him out and wrap him
    up in a towel and dry him off before he did the shake routine.  Luckily
    I was right there when it happened.
    
    Such a look of surprise on his little face...
    
    len.
    

    
    bwahahahahaaaa!  ahem.  =)
    
    	In my old apt, I had a tub/shower stall of the type that
    	needed a shower curtain.  The rim of the tub was rather
    	wide so Sasha would jump up and say hi from time to time
    	when mommy was taking a bath.  Audrey was much more curious
    	than that.  Especially if it was a bubble bath.  I waited
    	for the time that Audrey would fall in while batting
    	at the bubbles.  Fortunately, she never did....my legs
    	would have been shredded like hamburg if she had.  
    	She *has* fallen in while the shower was on.  (Before I
    	got in)  Now *that* was funny.  Her paws were too slippery
    	for her to climb out.  =)
    
    	JJ
    

    Hi everyone,
    
    I'm visiting Don Casey in Melbourne and he got me into Feline.  What a
    thrill to get into this note and read all about Floyd.  I heard about
    Floyd from Carl, but not in this detail.  Len, congrats on your new
    addition.  Belated birthday wishes to Merlin.  All your stories about
    Floyd remind me of our new addition.
    
    Yes, folks, we now have 5!  In August we got an adorable 3 month-old 
    Scottish Fold, that we named Ellery Queen.  He's a classic tabby, beautiful 
    folded ears,  big round eyes and the sweetest purrsonality.  He knows his 
    name and comes running when we call him.  (I think he thinks it's the word
    for food).  He's quite an eater and has no manners at all when it comes
    our dinner time.  He jumps right up on the table and has his nose in
    the plate before we realize what he's up to.  We  put him on the floor
    and he's back up before we know it.  The girls have accepted his
    presence, and the boys are enjoying playing with him.  Devin, our 18
    month, 16.5 pounder, has bonded with Ellery, and I have some
    wonderful pics of the 2 of them snuggled together.
    
    I'm missing my cats a lots while I'm "down under".  Luckily, Don has
    some cats for me to cuddle.  And I did get to pet some koalas and
    kangaroos.  I also miss all you Feliners so much.  Please send me email
    at: [email protected]
    
    Feline happy to be in feline again.
    
    Steffi
    
    

    
    Floyd's started climbing; he's apparently figured this out by himself,
    as he usually does it alone.  He likes to climb the screens, sort of
    spread eagled, but then he has to back down until he's low enough that
    he feels comfortable just pushing off and jumping down.  Everytime I
    hear that distinctive sound ("Floyd's up the screen door again!") I run
    for the camera but by the time it's turned on, zoomed and focussed
    properly, he's on his way down.
    
    He's also figured out how to get up onto the bookcases in my "library".
    He's found (all by himself it seems) Blueberry and Robin's favorite
    hideout way up near the ceiling atop a stack of jigsaw puzzle boxes,
    where he can settle in comfortably and survey the world below (which
    often includes me sitting at my PC).
    
    Did I mention he's about as big as Robin now, at 4 months?  His tail is
    almost as bushy as Rocky's but he carries it like a scorpion's stinger,
    arched high over his back.  He's discovered catnip, he especially likes
    his little "Kitty Can't Cope" sack of the stuff, which is punctured
    with teeth marks.  His favorite toy now (he's "misplaced" his rabbit
    fur mousie) is a blue yarn ball.  He also seems to really like those
    felt mouse "bookmarks" from the Brody Shelter, I keep finding them
    everywhere.
    
    Floyd is especially ingratiating at mealtime, when he can't headbutt
    and sideswipe enough.  Old Merlin is getting used to this demonstration
    of enthusiasm, and doesn't complain about it anymore.
    
    He's also in his "independence" phase, resisting being picked up and
    cuddled more than a few times a day (it's really difficult to see him
    strut by and not want to pick him up and hug him).  But sometimes he
    forgets and when he hears his name, he rolls over on his back and
    openly solicits a belly rub.
    
    His little patch of white on his throat reminds me of the similar patch
    of white that shows through a clerical collar - maybe he'll pick up the
    nickname "The Rev", he's sure revved up enough to deserve it...
    
    len.
    

    
    I deserved it.  I'm trying to switch the cats over to clumping litter,
    one litter box at a time.  So I bought some of the stuff (in a big
    cardboard box - I wish they'd package this stuff like regular litter,
    in a sack, these boxes and plastic jugs are not as easily disposed of,
    since they don't collapse nicely; a paper sack you can just roll up and
    toss in with the old litter being disposed of), and another bag of
    traditional litter.
    
    So, I hid the bag behind the two big boxes of new stuff.  I forgot that
    there was a way to get at it from behind (it was between the toilet and
    the wall, all my sweet little darlings had to go was go behind the
    toilet and voila, the scratching bag is right there!).
    
    So, I got up the next morning to find the bag totally shredded, with
    litter spread all over the bathroom floor.  Thankfully, they seem to
    think that litter outside of a litter box is just for playing with, not
    for using, so the mess wasn't as bad as it might have been.  And once
    collected, the litter was usable.  Just what is their fascination with
    tearing up a bag of litter?
    
    Floyd's developing some exotic tastes; last night I caught him licking
    the chive and onion cream cheese off my sandwich!  OK, cream cheese I
    can sort of imagine, but chive and onion?  (Well, my still-missed brown
    tabby Miss Monkey of ten years ago like cinnamon donuts...)
    
    Floyd's just so sweet.  This morning the cats were collecting on me
    after the alarm went off, sort of nudging me saying, "c'mon dad, get up
    and feed us".  First Merlin, then Robin, then Rocky, then Blueberry
    (who came out from behind the drapes over the CatNapper, where she was
    catching the first rays of the sun).  No Floyd.  So I called, "Where's
    my Floyd?  Where's my little Floyd?" and I hear this chirp/trill and
    Floyd sticks his head out from behind the drapes where Blueberry had just
    emerged.  "Well, ok, since you asked...".
    
    len.
    

    
    Last night we played with the "feather-thing-on-the-end-of-a-string-at-
    the-end-of-a-wand" and it was remarkable how distinct each cat's "catch
    and keep it" strategy was.
    
    Of course, old Merlin doesn't play anymore.
    
    Blueberry, bless her marshmallow muffin heart, should thank heaven
    that she doesn't have to hunt for a living.  She gets her fair share of
    whacks at the thing, but it mostly gets away from her.  When she does
    catch it, she hangs on with her paws, but a quick yank is all it takes
    for the "bird" to make its escape.
    
    Rocky catches it more often, and is a bit better at hanging on, but he
    relies on his sheer strength to hold it in his paws, which really
    aren't made for grasping, so unless he gets a claw or two in it, it's
    gone in a few seconds. 
    
    Robin though, gets it in her jaws as fast as possible and hangs on
    tight, hissing and growling all the time.  She is incredibly fast at
    swiping the thing out of the air.  Once caught, it takes a half dozen
    sudden yanks to get it to slip out of her mouth.  Robin's also quite
    aerobatic about catching; in comparison Rocky and Blueberry are
    sedentary hunters, an interesting concept. 
    
    Floyd's as fast as Robin, if not faster (I keep asking him, "hey, how'd
    you do that?"), and as much of a jumper, though Robin's maturity gives
    her the edge in reach, height and agility.  But once he's got it, it's in
    his mouth and then he's got his whole body on top of it and he's going
    after *the string* with his paws and mouth.  He's the only one who seems
    to understand that that string has something fundamental to do with the
    thing's mobility.  Unless it gets away from him quickly, he's got it
    "purrmanently".
    
    Hmm, gonna have to make sure my wallet and the keys to the car are out
    of Floyd's reach...
    
    len.
    

    len,

   your descriptions sound like my roommate-for-another-week's cat LIPTON -
   he loves the "feather thing" and will go leaps and bounds and FLIPS to
   get it - when he does, he hangs onto it in his jaws, has been known to
   *growl* at you and will try to stalk away with it, at least as far as the
   string will let him go !  If you're not paying attention and the wand slips
   out of your hand, watch out !!!!!!!!!  HE's OFF with it in a flash and
   drags the wand/string across the floor for the other cats to chase !!

   Debbi

    
    It's amazing how our three wait their turn to play. All three sit 
    patiently and we have to bring the feather close by one and then that
    cat will enter the rink and do its stuff. The little girl Keesha has
    the stongest grip and is the quickets at wacking it. Ziba our other 
    female is a show off, she love jumping in the air and doing summersalts 
    and stuff and really making a good work out out of this. Tomba and 
    gigantic Main Coon however, will chase it once or twice but then 
    he lays on his back with his huge double paws swing in the air and 
    you have to bring the birdy to him for wacking.
    
    Shaw

    
    Floyd just continues to get bigger and bigger and bigger.  He still
    eats like a little horse, so I'm starting to wonder just how big he's
    going to get.  Despite the fact that he's already bigger than Robin, he's
    still got "kittenish" proportions.  And his tail, you wouldn't believe
    his tail...
    
    But what a sweetheart.  If I call him by name he comes running, sometimes
    just to run across me, sometimes to give me a quick head butt or two,
    sometimes to flop down on me for a minute, then it's "Nice talking to 
    you Dad, but I gotta go do kitten stuff".
    
    I collected all his toys into one box.  There are two of them that he's
    singled out this week as favorites, and I see him carrying them all
    over the place.  (A small white woolen ball, and a larger blue one
    with a pipe cleaner loop - I think these used to part of a Brody
    Shelter toy.)  Sooner or later I find one of them "abandoned", and put
    it back in the box.  A little while later Floyd's carrying it around
    again, and I know to go look for the other one.
    
    Floyd just loves this game.  I can imagine him thinking "Way cool Dad,
    my toys have a homing instinct".
    
    I wish I could find his rabbit fur mousie though - it's been "missing
    in action" for a while now, and it was such a favorite of his.
    
    This weekend he got the "gotta climb the screen" crazies enough times
    that the camera was finally within reach and ready to go, and I got a
    picture of him spread eagled at the top of the screen door.
    
    len.

    
    Repeat as needed, "Floyd just keeps getting bigger and bigger and
    bigger...".
    
    Floyd's misplaced his favorite toys (which means *I* can't find them;
    he probably plays with them all day and then hides them before I get
    home, so I'll feel sorry for him and buy him some new ones), so I
    bought him some new ones - a suede mouse whose tail he loves to chew,
    and a set of four "pompom" balls, which Robin decided were really for
    her ("Robin, don't play with Floyd's balls!").
    
    Of course there's no toy like a non-toy, so the favored plaything this
    week is one of those yellow plastic bag ties, especially in the
    bathtub.  Even the "big" cats took turns whacking it around the tub.
    
    Rocky suffered through another bout of status confusion (sometimes known
    as jealousy), but he seems to be over it now.  I think Rocky figured he
    was in line for Merlin's position as top cat, but then Floyd showed up
    and made it clear who was the real boss.  So Rocky got very jealous of
    any attention I paid to Merlin or Floyd, to the point that he would
    literally "butt in" - "I may not be top cat, but Daddy's *MINE*!".
    Floyd could care less, he's too busy being a large kitten, and Merlin's
    content to sit anywhere in contact, so everybody's happy.  This seems
    to be a strictly male rivalry thing (though it may have something to do
    with Robin and Blueberry being Rocky's littermates).
    
    Robin's lately been very interested in coming to work with me. 
    (Remember my dream about Merlin?)  She seems to sense when I'm about to
    leave, and rushes to the front door where she waits, circling around,
    meowing her hissy silent meow, making sure she can get out with me.
    But once out in the hall, it's a different story, and she's happy to
    rush back inside, where she gets a pat on the head and a scratch behind
    the ears, and a "you be a good little girl now and make sure Floyd doesn't
    get into any serious trouble".
    
    And finally my big Blueberry marshmallow muffin has begun to rival Merlin
    as "most vocally solicitous" of attention.  I think she's been watching
    how Merlin manipulates me and copying his strategies of jumping into my
    lap the moment I stop moving, and if I won't stop moving, following me
    around and meowing plaintively.
    
    Of course, I never give the cats any more attention than they deserve,
    and there's never been any question about who's really in charge.
    
    ;^)
    
    len.
    
    
         

    Len...I'm having a real hard time visioning how BIG Floyd is!!!
    The day you adopted him...he could fit in the palm of your hands!!
    
    Floyd might be the kitty that finally BREAKS the myth that if cats
    are fixed at an early age they never grow to an adult size!!!
    
    Give them all a big hug...especially Merlin, who has accepted all his
    little furface companions!!!! What a guy...
    
    Sandy

    
    Well, at six months Floyd is already bigger than Robin, who's about
    18 months old and presumably full grown.
    
    I think Floyd is going to be a BIG boy, unless he stops growing real
    soon.  Like, tomorrow.
    
    len.
    

    
    I swear Floyd gets bigger everyday...
    
    At the show in Andover this weekend just past, I kept mentally comparing
    Floyd's size to other Maine Coon kittens about the same age.  Uh oh.
    
    At this show we finally managed to be in the same place at the same time
    as the Hadfields (who adopted Schuco from the Brody Shelter - one of Rocky/
    Robin/Blueberry's littermates), and shared stories and pictures of our
    kids.
      
    Floyd's created another toy - one of those great big red rubber bands
    the postalperson uses to bundle up things.  This one broke, so it's now
    a strip of tough rubber about a foot long and a quarter inch wide.
    Floyd takes one end in his mouth and carries it around, with Rocky
    chasing the loose end and swatting at it.  I'm waiting for the fateful
    moment when they both get a really good hold on their respective ends
    and they discover the energy storage (and release) properties of
    elastic materials... 
    
    len.
    

Len, please do not let the cats unattended while playing
with the band. It can be seriously dangerous if they 
accidentally swallow it. Cats sometimes tend to begin 
to swallow long things (e.g. stricks or yarns) and then
if it is once swallowed partly, they cannot sop it, they
swallow and chew and swallow instinctively. Some 
acquaintance of mine lost a cat due to that, the vet 
could not remove the yarn any more from the cat's
intestines. Have an eye on your babies while playing
with that rubber band...

Nevertheless, it MUST be a grat sight, two cats playing
tug-of-war...

Nat, who plays tug-of-war with Smokey, using a piece of
DEC office flat cable coating...

    
    Don't worry, I am careful about such things.  Besides, neither Floyd nor
    any of the rest of them has indicated any interest in eating the thing
    (which is quite large); Floyd just likes to carry it around.  I think
    he thinks it's a snake.
    
    Last night we were playing with the feather-thing-on-the-end-of-a-string-
    attached-to-a-wand, and I decided to change the "bird" from the bright
    blue "parrot" to a more natural brown guinea hen.  This was fine with
    everybody but Blueberry, who was confused by the fact that the bird
    *she* was chasing was now sitting motionless on the floor.  She'd swat
    at the brown bird when it flew by, then look back at her bluebird and
    look up at me as if to say, "But *this* is the one we were chasing!".
    Finally she decided she was right, and pounced on the bluebird, playing
    enthusiastically with it long after the string and wand had been put
    away.  Maybe she's not so "hunting-instinct-impaired" after all.  
    
    len.
    

    
    Floyd's latest game invention is "catch Daddy's toes under the blankets
    and bite them *HARD*".
    
    Keeping my feet absolutely still doesn't help.  Floyd's already figured
    out:
    
      1) When Daddy goes to bed, little mousie lumps appear at the foot of
         the bed.
    
      2) The lumps don't have to move, they're fun to bite even when
         they're still.  Even better, when you bite them, THEY MOVE!
         FAST!!  And they stay at the foot of the bed!!!  Wow, great play
         prey!
    
    I also made the mistake of putting Floyd up on top of the bookcase,
    Rocky's hideout.  Floyd climbs the screens but he doesn't climb the
    drapes, uh, yet, so he can't get up there by himself.  Yet.  This
    morning I found Floyd staring up at the top of the bookcase, then
    stretching out full length seeing how far he could reach, then
    considering whether he could climb the shelves like a ladder...
    
    And yes, Floyd is even bigger than he was last week.
    
    len.
    

    The stories are all so much fun to read!!!  Gee, Floyd looked so small
    in his pictures!  How is Merlin doign these days?
    Karen

    
    Hi Karen - I didn't bring the album that had some pictures of Floyd and
    Robin side by side, in these you can see very clearly just how big he's
    gotten, but even these are already "obsolete".
    
    Old Merlin is doing fine, but he's old.  He's slow and very deliberate,
    and sometimes spends a lot of time thinking what he's going to do next,
    especially just after he's climbed on my chest and hasn't quite decided
    exactly where he wants to sit.  His nose and ears don't work as well as
    they used to, so sometimes I have to carry him to any special treats I've
    put out for the cats, and sometimes you can unintentionally sneak up
    on him and surprise him when he doesn't hear you coming.  He's lost
    some weight, but he's eating and drinking well, he's just old.  Floyd
    pays special attention to him, and Merlin's finally gotten used to Floyd's
    head butts and side swipes.
    
    len.
    

    
    At the show last weekend in Marlborough, Sandy and I won a few of those
    tiny fur mousies.  She took one home for Rudy and Caspar Kelly, and I
    took one home for Floyd (the rest of the crew have "outgrown" mousies,
    or so I thought).  Floyd had his mousie for all of a few minutes before
    Robin stole it from him, defending her possession with her usual hissing
    and growling.  Not much later, mousie was missing his tail, and not much
    more later mousie disappeared into feline hyperspace.
    
    So, on the way home from work last night I stopped at Hadleigh House
    and picked up a half dozen of the mousies and one of those anti-litter-
    tracking pads.  I gave Robin and Floyd each their own mousie.  Same
    progression - within minutes, both mousies were missing their tails,
    and a little while later both had disappeared.  Two down, four to go.
    Both Robin and Floyd love carrying their mousies in their mouths from
    room to room.
    
    Then I tried out the antitracking pad.  Rocky was curious about it, but
    it was obviously something not to be stepped on.  Into and out of the
    litter box without ever setting foot on the pad.
    
    Then late last night after I had gone to bed I was awakened by the sound
    of music; for a moment I thought it was a neighbor, but it sounded too
    clear and too close.  I got up, went into the living room and found Rocky
    sitting next to the receiver's remote, which he had managed to use to turn
    it on *and* switch it from CD to FM; he was listening to some nice baroque
    piece.  Excellent taste on Rocky's part.  Of course, the receiver's
    tuned to WCRB by default, but I suppose he could have retuned it to
    WAAF or WCRB...
    
    Anyway, I congratulated Rocky on his manual (pawual?) dexterity and taste
    in music, turned off the receiver and told him it was time for bed.
    
    In return Rocky woke me up about 4 times all through the night, by
    licking my chin.  I'm not sure what he was trying to tell me...
    
      "No more of that ucky romantic slobber, Dad!  You make me listen to
       Smetana string quartets and I'll lick your chin all night long! 
       I'll show you what slobber means.  More Bach, less Mahler."
    
    And yes, Floyd is noticeably bigger than last time.  His head is now
    as big as the "adult" cats', but his body is still just a bit smaller.
    His ears and paws are too big in comparison.
    
    I think his name is going to be changed to Pretty Big Floyd.
    
    BTW, Sandy's son Mike helped me scan in some images of the cats; I have
    five .BMP files, each about 450KB, if anyone's interested in online
    images of the gang, let me know and we'll see what we can do.
    
    len.
           
                                                                 

    
    Last night I was sitting at my PC at home, and Robin sauntered up and
    started begging for attention.  I don't know quite how, but I got the
    idea that she wanted me to follow her.  She led me out of the library,
    through the living room, and into my bedroom, where she sat down by the
    dresser.  Now, "hidden" in one of the dresser drawers are the father
    things and sparkly mylar "dazzles", and Robin knows they're in there,
    and I think she knows I know she knows.  So I waited to see if she'd
    get more specific, and sure enough, as if she was wondering just how
    stupid I was and just how explicit she'd have to get, she stood up
    against the dresser and started pawing at the drawer with the toys in
    it.
    
    The moment I took the sparkle wand out and it rustled, Blueberry and
    Floyd appeared.  I played with the three of them for a minute, then
    wondered where Rocky was, as I've never known him to ignore that sound.
    I stuck the end of the wand under a book so it was tantalizingly out 
    of reach of the kids, and went looking for Rocky.
    
    He didn't respond to my calls, but then I saw the drapes move.  Sure
    enough, Rocky was behind the drapes, raptly watching a dangerous wild
    dried leaf through the glass door.  The leaf was taunting him by
    dancing in the wind.  Rocky wanted it so bad - but then the darned
    thing flew off the balcony into the night.  To console him, I picked
    him and took him into the bedroom, and showed him the sparkle wand.
    
    He and Blueberry and Robin took turns leaping at it, but Floyd seemed
    miffed that, first, it was out of reach, and worst, it wasn't moving.
    So he jumped off the bed and went to the dresser, and stood up and
    pawed at the drawer.  "Get me one that moves, Daddy!".
    
    Suddenly Rocky shot from the bedroom and ran back to the living room
    drapes.  Another wild leaf had come up to the balcony to tease him!
    
    Then Floyd ran through the living room dragging the sparkle wand behind
    him.  Out of reach indeed.  I recalled the second (or is it third?) law
    of Cats - "if it doesn't move, make it move". 
    
    And yes, Floyd is noticeably bigger than last time.
    
    len.
                                                 

    
    
    	Len,
    
    	My day is just not complete without one of your stories!
    
    	Grins
    
    	JJ
    

    
    The latest news on Floyd and the gang is:
    
      1) I caught him climbing the drapes this morning.  Rocky's repeated
         "lessons" seem to have finally had some effect.  Floyd stops when
         he runs out of momentum, so he hasn't made it to the top yet, and
         he'll still have to master the trick of getting off at the top and
         onto the traverse rod or the neighboring bookcase.
    
      2) Floyd continues to grow and grow and grow.  At seven months, he's now
         roughly the size of the "adult" cats, though he doesn't have Rocky
         or Blueberry's bulk.  He's clearly bigger than Robin, and about
         the same size as, though a bit heavier than, old Merlin.  He's
         still got a kittenish figure, and his paws still look outsized.
         His tail is nothing less than magnificent, I thought Rocky's
         squirrel tail was impressive, but Floyd's tail has to be seen to
         be believed!  The ruff around his neck is thickening up and is
         coming in a beautiful shade of brown/tan.  He doesn't much care for
         being picked and held, but he's not as fidgety about this as Robin
         is.  But, get down on the floor with him, and he falls all over 
         himself head butting and sideswiping.   
    
      3) Floyd's "clownish" antics (the word most often used to describe
         Maine Coons' personalities) seem to have infected the other cats,
         little Robin especially.
    
    len.
    

    Len,
    I think it's time you bought one of the six foot trees from 
    Arubacat!!
    Karen
    see ya this weekend?

    My guess would be that if Len bought a tree...both Rocky and
    Floyd would use the tree...and then jump on the curtains to
    make it to the top.  You'd just make the challenge easier for
    them!!!
    
    Len...will you be at the show on Sat or Sun!!!   I'd love to
    see new Floyd pictures because when I last saw him he fit in
    the palm of your hands.  I'm having a very hard time picturing
    him BIG!!
    
    Sandy

    Yes, Sandy, that is true. But one would hope the human would be smart
    enough to place the tree far enough away from the drapes ;'}  Then they
    might try the flying squirrel technique.  Hey, just think of all the 
    excersize they will get!
    Gotta run,
    Next week I'll be in LJO
    see you all this weekend

    Re. Robin.bmp
    
    I got a Viper true color VGA board with 2 megs on it and now Robin IS
    my desktop wallpaper kitty. The image is 100%. Can you post the others,
    Len?
    
    Nat (&Smokey, who now, with the new board, WATCHES the screen!!!!)

    
    Sandy and I weren't able to make the show this weekend because I was
    down with a bad cold.
    
    So, if you want to see pictures of Floyd and the rest of the crew,
    you'll have to come to the East Coast Feliners Christmas Party at
    Holly's on the 16th.
    
    len.
    

    
    Just in case anybody wondered, Floyd continues to grow.  At seven
    months age, he's now as big as the "grown up" cats.  His tail must be
    seen to be believed.
    
    I repeat myself, I know, but if you met the "little" guy, you'd
    understand.
    
    len.
    

    
    Floyd scared the dickens out of me last week.
    
    Thursday morning he didn't join the "morning roundup", when the troops
    gather on top of me in bed to try to roust me out to feed them.  This
    was not very Floyd-like, so I investigated - he was curled up in his
    CatNapper, and when I picked him up he cried pitifully like I was
    hurting him, so I gently put him back in his nest.
    
    I went and cleaned out their food bowls and put out their breakfast.
    There was a big pile of fresh throwup around Floyd's dry food bowl
    (he's the only one who eats dry food).  I cleaned up the mess, but
    still no Floyd, who usually comes running at the sound of anything that
    might mean food.
    
    Time to scoop the litter boxes.  Now Floyd shows up, and can't wait to
    go; he makes a big wet diarrhea and runs back to his nest.
    
    Oh boy, I'm thinking.  Throwup, diarrhea, loss of appetite, lethargy,
    body pains.  I've got one very sick kitten here.  Trying not to burst
    into tears I call the vet to make an appointment.  They can't see him
    until later that afternoon, but don't think it's an emergency.  I go
    talk to him and check him for a fever.  He looks up at me with his
    deep golden eyes and I know he's saying "Don't worry Daddy, I'm okay".
    He even gets up and drinks some wtaer before I leave for work.
    
    All day at work I worry about him until I can finally leave to pick him
    and take him to the vet.  All the way home I chant to myself, "please
    Floyd, don't be sick".
    
    And sure enough, when I get home, he's his normal kittenish self,
    playing with Blueberry who's staked out the cat carrier as her private
    cave.  I swap her out and him in and we're off to the vet, just in
    case.
    
    The visit is uneventful, Floyd's in apparent excellent health.  He
    weighs 8 pounds at 8 months.  The vet thinks he's going to be a "big"
    cat.
    
    We get home and Floyd is especially friendly, not his typically
    adolescent aloof self.  As if he's saying, "Gee Daddy, you really care
    about me.  I'm sorry I scared you."
    
    The next day, I discover that a baggy of chocolate candies has been
    chewed up.  Some of the pieces have neatly paired incisor punctures,
    but it doesn't look as if the culprit was actually able to eat any.
    Hmm, might Floyd of the insatiable appetite have been responsible?
    
    Off to the cat books to look up chocolate.  Nothing about chocolate in
    the sections on poisons and other household dangers.  I know chocolate
    is very dangerous for dogs.
    
    Anyway, Floyd's fully his usual kittenish self, except that he seems to
    be a bit less aloof.
    
    Rocky responds to all this attention to Floyd by stepping up his
    jealous guarding of Daddy.  I call Floyd, and Rocky comes, just in case
    he needs to intercede.  His "rivalry" with Floyd remains good natured,
    they're like two brothers trying to outdo one another.  
    
    Happy New Year,
    
    len.
    

    Best and problemless new year, Len (and of course all the others, too).
    
    Could it not be that the candies were filled with liquor or the like?
    Perhaps alcoholic symptoms it was. He did not eat them, but sucked the
    brandy out and got sick. I have read of several cats drinking alcohol,
    some of them got sick and some of them not.
    
    Just a guess.
    
    Hope all is OK, be well:
    
    Nat

    
    No, no boozing for Floyd, they were Hershey's Kisses, and they weren't
    even unwrapped.
    
    Floyd has completely shrugged off whatever it was, though.
    
    len.
     

    What a picture!!  I can imagine seeing some sneaky little kitty
    sneaking up to one of those liquor filled chocolate bottles, sticking
    his fangs in and sucking out the booz!  They gross me out so I don't
    know how the cats could like it.  This would make a good cartoon 
    for a book!
    
    BTW, I recieved the book "Why cats are better than men" for 
    Christmas.  Very funny.
    Karen

    
    Cats are apparently not very fond of alcohol.  Elizabeth Marshall
    Thompson's "The Tribe of Tiger" tells about big cat (lions and tigers)
    trainers being very careful to not drink before they work with the
    cats, as the smell of alcohol provokes them.
    
    Anyway, I once had a dog who loved beer.  One day as I was drinking a
    beer with lunch, he (a magnificent blue Afghan Hound) kept trying to
    "intercept" the bottle.  I said, "OK, you want some beer, I'll give you
    some beer", assuming he'd hate the bubbly yeasty flavor.  So I poured some
    into a water dish and set it down in front of him.  He lapped it all
    up, ran around the house a few times in utter glee, and then sat down
    in front of the bowl and looked up at me panting "More.  More.  More."
    I had to be careful to not set the bottle down within his reach, one
    time I caught him with his mouth around the neck, trying to figure out
    how to get the stuff out...  Little did he know all he had to do was
    tilt his head back.
    
    Now, returning to our regularly scheduled feature:
    
    It turns out Rocky isn't jealous of attention I pay to Floyd; he's
    jealous of attention I pay to any of the cats, except Merlin (for whom
    they all seem to have developed a Yoda-like reverence).  Rocky comes
    running whenever he hears me sweet-talking either of his sisters as
    well, and makes sure I know that he's there too, ready for his share.
    
    len.
    

    It sounds like Rocky is vying position of head cat in waiting. Just
    like Tubba!
    Karen

    
    Oh boy.  Everybody except old Merlin is a little bit sick.
    
    Bluberry's wet eye was back again last week, and I managed to get that
    cleared up when Floyd started sneezing.  I took him to the vet, but his
    examination was inconclusive ("if it gets worse call us"), he's healthy
    in all respects except for the sneezing.  Over the past few days, he's
    been sneezing less, but he still does occasionally.  A little
    decongestant seems to help, but he's very clever about not swallowing
    those yucky little pills.
    
    Last night Rocky started sneezing, and this morning Robin had a wet eye
    and slight conjunctivitis.  Robin is *very* resistant to any form of
    constraint, and getting some ointment into her eye was quite an
    adventure.  Thankfully we were able to "kiss and make up" before I left
    for work this morning.
    
    Still, everybody's eating and drinking, peeing and pooping, but with
    Robin and Blueberry "weeping" and Rocky and Floyd sneezing, I feel like
    a harried "Dr. Mom".
    
    And yes, Floyd just keeps getting bigger.  Rocky, Blueberry and Merlin
    make continuous demands on my attention and affection, Blueberry
    especially lately; she's decided that my lap is the best place to
    sleep.  Robin curls up on the stove (she learned this trick from
    Merlin), and Floyd and Merlin compete for the warm spot under the lamp
    by the sofa.  
    
    Ah, New England winters...
    
    len.
    

    
    Everybody's better now, I'm happy to report.
    
    Floyd had his first experience of snow this weekend.  He sat literally
    for hours watching it fall and blow about the balcony.  I offered him a 
    chance to go out and experience it "first-paw" so to speak, but he
    declined, content to watch the older cats try to walk across it
    without breaking through the crust.  They had their fill of the cold
    wet stuff fairly quickly (the gusting 5 degree wind might have provided
    some incentive too) and ran back inside with little urging from me. 
    
    I've discovered the ringleader in the conspiracy to dig the Feather
    Flyer out of its hiding place, feather, string, rod and all.  It's none
    other than Blueberry - I caught her red handed, uhm, red pawed, right
    at the center of things.  It appears she's a bit more clever than her
    mellow disposition would suggest.
    
    Robin and Rocky have become very insistent about getting out into the
    hall.  Robin is the most demonstrative, and while she's got me
    distracted, Rocky sneaks around behind me.  Once I'm out in the hall
    trting to catch Rocky and Robin (who mostly just hang around the door),
    Blueberry runs out and trots away, usually off in the direction of
    Malone, the orange tabby Maine Coon at the other end of the hall.
    And across the hall from Malone are Bailey, who bears an uncanny
    resemblance to Merlin in his younger days, and the floor's "monster",
    whose name I don't recall just now, a great big fellow.
    
    Of course, once Blueberry's set the precedent, Rocky and Robin trot off
    too.
    
    Someone once described a futile effort as being "like herding cats".
    Too true...
    
    len.
       

    
    How could I have forgotten to mention Floyd's discovery of catnip?
    
    Floyd is definitely *very* responsive to catnip.
    
    I've also noticed that Floyd is a bit more conservative than the other
    cats.  He's not one to rush into things.  This struck me after
    considering his reticence about going out in the snow - he watched the
    other cats to see what happened with them.  Then the morning "let's run
    out in the hall and make Daddy catch us before he can go to work" game;
    Floyd's only been out in the hall a few times (and always taken there
    by me), and he prefers to stand just inside the door and watch what's
    going on rather than venture out himself.
    
    Now, Floyd's most assuredly not just a "fraidy cat" - he seems to be
    carefully considering things before he commits himself.
    
    Floyd also seems to be growing out of his adolescent assertion of
    independence; he's more affectionate with both me and his
    step-siblings.
    
    len.
      

    And is he still GROWING!!!   This brings another thought to mind...
    everyone always said that spaying/neutering your cat at a young
    age does stunt his growth.  WELL...Floyd seems to have put that
    thought to bed since he was neutered as a kitten or maybe he
    would be twice his size if he hadn't been neutered at a young
    age???
    
    Sandy   

    
    Floyd's still growing, but not quite as fast.  I can't imagine him
    growing any faster than he has, he'd make sonic booms.
    
    He's nine months old now, and even if he only continues growing for
    another 6 months, even at a much slower rate, he's still going to be
    One Big Cat.  If, as is typical of Maine Coons, he continues to grow
    for two to four more years, he's going to be One Very Big Cat.
      
    Floyd's generally very quiet, but lately he's started to vocalize a bit
    more.  He has the most astonishingly tiny and sweet voice, completely
    unexpected from his size and demeanor.
    
    And to think I tried to resist adopting him!
    
    len.
    
     

    Len..be serious you really didn't try to resist adopting him
    too much...you fell for him the minute you saw him!!! 
    
    Regarding the tiny meow...Capone also has the sweetest, cutest
    little cry I ever heard and I find it so funny coming out of
    this cat that is so big and looks so mean!!!
    
    So you ready for another cat...let's go visit the shelter!!!!
    
    Sandy

    Tubba too has a weensy little cry and he comes in at around 13+!
    I think the bigger the cat, the weenier the cat;')
    Karen

    I think a small voice is characteristic of Maine Coons.  I know the
    chirp is.  Does he chirp yet?  My Spike (maybe pure-bred, certainly
    looks it, but was a stray) has the most endearing chirp and teeny-tiny
    meow (more of a "mi").  From a cat that's about 20+ pounds, it's quite
    hysterical!
    Sarah

	Gypsy chirps, even though he's 1/2 siamese and 1/2 long haired black???
He chirps and trills and "mmmm's" all in a very high octave!!  He's too funny!

	Laura

    
    
    	Sasha meeps, Chloe chirps and Audrey wails.  I have quite
    	the kitty chorus let me tell you!  =)
    

    
    Floyd trills rather than chirps.  Blueberry chirps, and she helps fling
    them on their way by tossing her head as she does.  It's a delight to
    watch.  Robin meows, but it sounds like she has laryngitis.  Rocky is
    the only one with a "normal" cat voice, but he only uses it when he's
    flustered and so modulates it in somewhat bizarre ways.  Merlin has a
    deep, piercing voice, which he assaults me with when the mean time
    between cuddles exceeds his critical threshold of about one minute.
    
    But it's almost hilarious to hear this angelic little voice come out of
    Floyd, who in addition to now being simultaneously the youngest and
    the largest of the cats, has quite the raffish visage...  I don't dare
    laugh at or make fun of him (I couldn't anyway, he's always going to
    be "cute"), he'd really bite my toes through the bedcovers at night,
    rather than just pretending to.
    
    len.
        

    
    We got to visit one of Floyd's brothers this weekend.  He's named
    Pooh Bear (which fits him perfectly), and he lives with two of JJ's
    litter, almost identical male red/orange tabbies.  They're named Max
    and Moritz.  And there's also Mopsie, a female brown tabby, who greeted
    us when we arrived and then disappeared.
    
    Pooh is enormous, and probably has at least a 2 pound advantage on
    Floyd.  And we thought Floyd was big!  I should have expected this,
    given that Floyd was the runt of the litter!  Unlike Floyd, Pooh is a
    real lap cat.  Apart from these (minor) differences, the resemblance
    is impressive.
    
    Moritz is sociable, but Max is shy and retiring.
    
    len.
    
    
     

    
    
    	Hey, I don't have any sons!    ;)
    
    
    	JJ
    

    
    Merlin went in last Friday for his annual inspection and rabies/distemper
    boosters.  Because of his age, we always run a kidney profile, and I
    just got the numbers back.  His BUN and creatinine are essentially
    unchanged from a year ago, and are remarkable for a cat of his age
    (19 years, going on 20 in July).  So his tired old kidneys are hanging
    in there, and his prognosis, even though he's lost two pounds since
    his last physical and feels a little bony, remains excellent.
    
    I'm so happy I could cry...
    
    len.
     

    Great news for old Marvin.    For some reason even though
    I have never met Marvin...he always reminds me of a long
    lost brother of my Mr. Meow!!!
    
    It must be the siblings that are keeping him young!!!
    
    Sandy

    Yea Merlin!

    
    re .263 - Sandy, how could you?  "Marvin"?  Merlin will never forgive
    you...  But of course, only if I *tell* him you called him "Marvin".
    
    len.
    

    Oh no..my loving apologies to Merlin...how dare I!!  BUT..I know
    why I made the mistake.  As soon as I read your memo I instantly
    thought of Marvin (Arlene's kitty who also has kidney problems)
    because when Arlene called and was very upset about Marvins
    reading going up a little bit, we had a discussion how the levels
    can stabalize over time.  And we talked about how cats can live a 
    normal life with higher levels.. And of course MERLIN proved this
    theory and I was hoping Arlene read your note!!
    
    Okay...the other reason.  My mind is going...with 13 cats I find
    myself calling them by the wrong name MANY times!!!  The sad part is
    I will call them the wrong name, realize I did it and call them 
    another name and it's still the wrong one!!!   
    
    You can tell Merlin what I did..(sigh) because I'm sure he'll 
    undestand that our cats are driving us insane!!
    
    Sandy
    

    Know what? Hip-Hip-Meow for Both Merlin and Marvin!
    :^)
    Nat

    
    Rocky, Robin and Blueberry went Friday for their annual physicals and
    booster shots.  This was our second attempt; the first had to be
    cancelled and rescheduled when Robin led a successful "there's no way
    you're getting me into that carrier-thing and taking me in that car-thing
    to that smells-like-medicine-place where those strangers poke and stick
    me" rebellion.  Though Rocky and Blueberry had been comfortably lounging
    in the cat carriers, Robin (who seems to have a less forgiving memory)
    bolts at the mere sound of their being taken out.  When I first tried to
    "coax" her into one, she performed her patented Jekyll/Hyde transformation,
    found her voice, and shredded my hands and arms, then disappeared
    irretrievably behind the bookcase.  Rocky and Blueberry both took this
    as a cue that maybe the carriers weren't such nice little caves to
    nestle in, and they disappeared as well.
    
    So, the carriers stayed out for a week, then the day before The Day,
    they got stashed in the bathtub, behind the shower curtain.  Rocky
    quickly tracked them down and moved in.  Robin was wary of any sound of
    them being moved, but as she'd heard The Sound several times now
    without any terrible consequences, she didn't disappear, just remained
    in Alert status.  So, I was able to herd Blueberry and Rocky into the
    bedroom and close the door, then carry her into the bathroom and
    close the door before she realized what was happening.  She valiantly
    resisted getting into the carrier, and I acquired a few more "stripes",
    before I finally tipped the carrier on end and slipped her in
    vertically.
    
    Then into the bedroom with the second carrier to round up Rocky and
    Blueberry, who, hearing Robin's shrieks, were now wise to the
    unfolding plot.  But in comparison to Robin, they were docile.
    
    Into the car and off to the vet with three very unhappy cats, wondering
    if it was easier to do this to one cat three times, or to three cats one
    time, even with the "quantity discount".
    
    Of course, once in the examining room, Robin refused to come out of the
    carrier!  We did manage to get her out, but her tail was puffed up
    like Rocky or Floyd's and she sported a razor back of raised hair.
    
    Still, she behaved well, and when she was past her ordeal she was happy
    to get back in the carrier and sulk.
    
    Anyway, the results:  all three in good shape, except for varying
    degrees of gingivitis - Rocky worst, Blueberry next, Robin least.
    So Rocky goes in tomorrow to have his teeth cleaned.  And all of them
    will learn to get their teeth "brushed".  Blueberry, at 11.1 pounds,
    weighed in a tad more than Rocky, at 11.0, and the petite Robin was 9.2
    pounds.
    
    Once home, Robin hid for a while, but I was instantly forgiven when 
    I brought out a "peace offering" of canned chicken.
    
    What an adventure.  And my wounds are almost healed...  And Old Merlin
    (and Floyd too) seemed oblivious to their brief departure and return 
    smelling of "that place".
    
    len.
    

    
    Rocky went in this morning to have his teeth cleaned.  He was really
    quite good about, didn't seem to mind being left alone in the bedroom
    while everyone else got fed, went right into the carrier when I asked
    him to, didn't start to cry until he realized he was going to *THAT
    PLACE* again.  By the time we got to the vet's office, he was huddled
    in the back of the carrier, wide eyed with trepidation.
    
    I just talked to the vet and the procedure was uneventful, I can pick
    him up on the way home and start apologizing ...
    
    len.
    

    
    Rocky was still pretty groggy when I picked him up to take him home.
    When we got home, he wobbled out of the carrier to make his inspection
    rounds to be sure nothing had changed in his absence.  Except that he'd
    walk about 10 feet and then lay down and fall asleep.  I'd go check on
    him every now and then, and find him stretched out in the strangest
    places.  He was so spaced out that even his normally hair-trigger purr box
    was inoperative.  Convinced that everything was OK, he eventually retired
    to the carrier for some serious napping.  When it was finally my turn to
    sack out, I took him out and put him beside me on "his" pillow, and
    with his purr engine once again kicking over, he gently nuzzled me a few
    times and then stretched out one of his big boxing glove paws and rested
    it on my face, the quintessentially Rockian gesture.  This morning he was
    a lot more his usual self, though he still seemed a little tentative.
    
    Blueberry and Floyd seemed to react with a simple "Hey, Rock, where you
    been?".  Merlin, who Rocky has been challenging a bit lately, was less
    thrilled to see/smell him, and I heard a couple of Merlin's unique
    growl-meows.  Robin, however, seemed to have some strange fascination
    with Rocky, following him around and staring at him with the most
    bizarre expression on her face.  
    
    It's Blueberry's turn next, though probably not until next month.  The
    vet said some cats are genetically more susceptible to tarter buildup
    and gingivitis, and these three littermates seem to have inherited it.
    So, we'll have to see if they can learn to put up with regular "brushings"
    of their teeth as well as their coats. 
    
    len.

    
    Len, do you give your cats the Tartar Control treats? Would that 
         help future build up? Our cats eat a lot of dry food (IAMs) 
         they share on pack of Sheaba between the three of them 
         in the mornings and one in the evenings. The dry food is 
         just there for free feeding, I have not seen any of them 
         over eat. Visually I haven't noticed any buildup on theirs
         but they are due for their anual checkup next month. I 'll
         know for sure then ;-)
    
    Shaw

    
    re Tartar Control Pounce treats - Blueberry and Floyd love them, Robin
    and Rocky ignore them.  Floyd's too young yet to tell, but Rocky's
    tartar/gingivitis problem was worse then Blueberry's, and hers was worse
    than Robin's.  Inconclusive.  Go figure.  Only Floyd will eat dry food;
    everybody else ignores it.  But, Old Merlin eats the same as everybody
    else, ignores Tartar Control treats, and has had to have his teeth cleaned
    maybe twice in his twenty years.  If I had to draw a conclusion, I'd
    say it looks to me like the genetic connection is stronger than the
    Pounce connection.
    
    len.
    
    
      

    
    Tomorrow marks the second anniversary of my adoption of Rocky, Robin
    and Blueberry.  I still remember the drive home from the Brody shelter
    with three incredibly beautiful kittens in the carrier on the seat
    beside me, chewing on my fingers which I poked through the door so the
    trip would be a little less traumatic.  And I'm so glad Rocky convinced
    me to take him too.
    
    len.
      

    Len,
    It doesn't really seem that long at all , does it?
    You've got a wonderful little group!
    Karen

    
    
    	Two years already?  Wow.  Seems like just yesterday we
    	were getting the daily kitten updates that sent me into
    	fits of hysterics.  =)
    
    	JJ
    

    
    It's taken some time, but Robin and Floyd have learned how to get up
    to Rocky's stratospheric lair on top of the bookcase.  They both just
    jump, using the adjacent CatNapper as a launching pad - it's about 4
    feet, easily within reach of a self assured cat.  And Robin and Floyd
    are both quite self assured.  Rocky still climbs the drapes to get up
    there, though he could probably make it in one jump too.  (Blueberry
    still requires an assist, but she helps as best she can with her front
    paws, climbing the shelves as if they were a ladder.)  Rocky sometimes
    gets really wound up and makes the leap up the drapes the last leg of
    a multi-room race; recently he got a bit confused and tried the climb
    up the *inside* of the drapes, got to the top and discovered he couldn't
    get past the traverse rod on the inside and hung from it by his paws for
    a few seconds before he "changed his mind".
    
    len.
    
    

    
    Little Robin, the mighty huntress, has recently made many special
    efforts to help her bumbling Dad.  She had learned that when she
    "loses" one of her fur mousies, Dad can often be summoned to retrieve
    it from inaccessible places, using various magic appliances (e.g., a
    broom handle).  But dumb old Dad never seemed to understand what to do
    with the mousie - tossing it all the way across the room is just so
    typically human.
    
    So Robin's taken it upon herself to teach me the proper treatment of
    very small furry things.  It's become a daily routine for Robin
    to bring me one of her fur mousies, drop it in front of me and
    then wait expectantly.  This was preceded by many demonstrations of
    how the mousie should be held in the mouth, tossed into the air (only
    in the immediate vicinity, not across the room) and batted about.
    
    OK, I can take the hint.  So when she drops the mousie in front of me,
    I swat it around and toss it in the air.  "Cool, Dad, you're catching
    on!".  She takes her turn, then drops the mousie in my lap or on my
    chest.  "Your turn!".
    
    OK, on to advanced mousing.  I try taking the mousie's tail in my teeth
    and tossing it with a snap of the head.  Whoa!  Not as easy as it
    looks!  Mousie mostly just whacks Dad in the side of the face and falls
    on the floor.  This requires careful timing and coordination.  No fair
    using those clawless fingers, Robin says.  But my grrring and hissing
    is coming along nicely...
    
    len (apprentice cat).
     

    Giggle Giggle...I can just picture you Len on the floor with
    Robin taking lessons on how to become a great mouse hunter!!
    
    Gee...maybe Robin will want to teach you how to use the litterbox
    next.   
    
    Sandy
    

Re .277:
Okay, you got me: are you SERIOUS?? <incredulous look>  Next, she'll expect
you to go out and catch one!

    
    Serious?  Of course!  I try real hard to "meet my cats halfway".
    Besides, I already catch fur mousies for her!  I bring them home in
    a nice plastic bag.
    
    And I often greet Floyd, my Maine coonish one year old, by getting down on
    the floor so we can head butt one another.
    
    I thought this was routine stuff for cat folk...
    
    len.
    
    (PS, in case it's not absolutely clear, these are not real mouses, they
    are realistic fur "simulations" with leather tails.  No, I would *not*
    try this with a real mouse.) 
    

    Of COURSE it's routine stuff ]:3
    
    But what I want to know is, will Robin hold the wand for you when she
    teaches you Advanced Feather-Flyer Techniques?!
    
    Last night at cocktail hour we looked up to see Skrufy on the kitchen
    counter attempting to pull down, with his teeth, one of many grape
    leaves tied up to dry after rinsing.  (This is our first attempt at
    making stuffed grape leaves from scratch.)  Because Skruf was so
    determined, we gave him a leaf; he carried it around for a while,
    chewed it tentatively, and eventually left it in the hall.  I found it
    and, *thinking I was doing him a big favor*, left it on top of his dry
    food.  (After all, he leaves me mousies there, and it seems like the
    equivalent of leaving stuff on the stairs for the next person to take
    up or down.)
    
    A little while later Skruf was feeling peckish and came trotting in to
    the kitchen.  Suddenly he FROZE, staring at the dish!  He approached it
    in slow motion, as if it were Possible Prey Not To Be Trusted, at which
    point I (in hysterics, but trying to be kind) picked up the leaf and 
    showed him, saying "It's OK Skruf, see, it's only your leaf!"
    
    I have *never* been given such a dirty look by a cat in my life.
    
    In the doghouse, apparently,
    Leslie

Thanks Leslie and Len -- this is better than the humor conference!

			SQ

    
    I get the feeling maybe I should have posted a warning:
    
    "Professional mouser in a closed room.  Do not attempt these
    maneuvers yourself"
    
    len.
    

    I'm so happy, Len, that you have resumed your kitty reports.  I
    have to confess that I always check 509 first whenever I log into
    FELINE (which, I'm sorry to say, is not too frequently).
    
    I too have to do headbutts with Pooh Bear, Floyd's brother, when I get
    home.  Though Pooh climbs onto the kitchen table, with forepaws on arm
    of chair (his "greeting position"), so I don't have to go to ground
    level.
    
    Again, thanks for the reports!
    Sunni

    
    Well, I hope I'm not raising expectations.  It's not so much that I've
    "resumed" reporting on the menagerie, as much as it is there were just
    some new things to report.  Things have pretty much settled down to the
    routine:
    
      "You are really *some* cat, you know?"
    
      "I have too many cats.  But don't worry, there isn't one of you I'd give
       up for anything".
    
      "FLOYD GET DOWN FROM THERE!"
    
      "ROBIN GET DOWN FROM THERE!"
    
      "Rocky?  Rocky?  Where's my Rocky?"
    
      "C'mon Blueberry, you just *had* a handful of treats!"
    
      "Merlin, your whiskers tickle my nose when you sit that close to my
       face, and it's hard to breathe with your paws on my throat like
       that."
    
      "Robin, I know you love me, you don't have to make mush paws on my
       belly.  And could you turn around, you have a cute little butt but
       I'd rather it wasn't in my face."
    
      "Rocky, don't mess with Merlin!  Respect your elders!"
    
      "FLOYD!  Stop beating on your big sister!"
    
      "Yes, yes, yes, Merlin, I'll refill the (lactose free) milk bowl."
    
      "Anybody want turkey?"
    
      "Floyd, did you stash some catnip someplace?"
    
      "Robin, get the mousie!"
    
      "Oh Blueberry, you're such a mushmuffin!"
    
    You know, the same old stuff...
    
    len.
       
    
      "OK, I'll take the feather flyer out..."
     

    re. 280 and 284
    
    It depends on Smokey's daybefore dreams, how she wants the headbutt if
    I come home, but she wants it. Some guests coming home with me often
    made queer faces to see me entering the house in 'full tie and collar'
    and immediately falling on all fours to 'nose' my cat.
    
    She handles me as a cat. Not my wife, but me: am bitten, scratched and
    yelled at if we play 'cat and cat'. And as for I am not furry, I always
    end up bleeding in different dozens of tiny wounds. (BTW, since I have
    the cat and play this rude play - rude for me! - my being ill
    dramatically fewered. I mean I am much seldomer ill. My doc says the
    everyday small scratches on the skin tune up one's immune system to be
    more resident against quite everything. Well, a cat is a healthy thing
    to have.)
    
    
    Nat

    
    There's been a continuing thread in rec.pets.cats about laser pointers
    as toys for cats.  (No, you don't give the pointer to the cats, you let
    them chase the red dot.)
    
    Spoiled as my children are, I figured it was time for a new and
    exciting diversion for them.  So I made the rounds of the local office
    supply emporia checking out their laser pointers.  Hmm, the first four
    I visited were all out!  Several of the sales people remarked "Gee, we
    usually have a bunch of these, I wonder why we're out of stock".
    
    But I did eventually find one (justifying it with an "I always wanted
    one of these anyway, and I can use it when I show slides...").
    
    And boy, do the cats love that little red dot!  They chase it, but
    sort of slapping the floor with their paws, trying to "catch" it,
    which is hilarious to watch.  And because it's absolutely silent, they
    sometimes run past it and "lose" it.  When I turn the beam off, they go
    digging into anything nearby where it might have "hidden".
    
    Floyd's very suspicious of that black thing I hold in my hand; he
    quickly figured out that the red bug only appears when Daddy's holding
    the black thing.  Rocky seems on the verge of making a similar
    connection.  Robin, who's usually the scarily insightful one, is too
    busy trying the catch the bug to consider where it comes from.
    
    BTW, the registration card that came with it has a check box under
    "intended use" for "pet toy"!  Seriously!
    
    [Before you jump on me, these lasers are very low power, and I am
    *very* careful to not point it at their faces.]
    
    len.
    
    

    Not that money should be a factor in getting the FIRM a new "toy" that
    they obviously "need", but what is the approximate cost?
    
    Deb

    
    The one I got (at Staples) was $80.  A bit pricey for a cat toy, which
    is why I had an "alternative justification" handy.  I have seen others
    run as high as $130.  I think someone in rec.pets.cats mentioned they
    had seen one in a Damark catalog for $40.
    
    They last "forever", the cats never tire of the red bug, it's great for
    exercising them, etc., etc.  See, lots of ways you can get around the
    "sticker shock".
    
    Five cats, $80, $16/cat!  (Probably shouldn't count Merlin, but...). 
    Almost reasonable!
    
    len.

    No jump, Len, but really be very careful. I dunno the type of pointer
    you use, these here run on an AA cell and are very loww power, and as I
    unfortunately blinked into one from abt. 6 feet, I was semiblind for
    two hours and had a doc visit tour for more than two weeks until I
    regained my sight fully (and got rid of my redbull eye). Please be VERY
    careful indeed!!!!
    
    Nat

    
    My old boy Merlin has apparently been checking out those magazine milk
    advertisements that feature famous personages with a smear of milk on
    their upper lip.  Merlin's notion of trying out for such an ad consists
    of walking around with a smear of milk on his chin...
    
    len.
      

    
    A year ago today I drove out to the Brody shelter with a pile of
    pictures, and purely by chance of course, my cat carrier and checkbook.
    
    I came home with an irresistably cute tiny brown tabby kitten with the
    looks of some Maine Coon in him, soon to be named Pretty Boy Floyd.
    
    Happy Adoption Anniversary to His Floyditude!
    
    len.
      

 A year ago we went to a C.A.R.E adoption day looking for help with the FeLV+
kittens we rescued.  We weren't planning to adopt, so we didn't bring the 
carrier.  Of course, we couldn't resist Tatoo so we had to go back home for 
the carrier.

 Happy Birthday sweetie.

			SQ

    
    Because Merlin was given to me as a kitten of indeterminate age (around
    ten to twelve weeks, probably), I've never been sure exactly when his
    birthday is.  But it's likely it was in the middle of July that he was
    born, twenty years ago.
    
    So, we officially celebrated Merlin's 20th birthday this weekend.
    
    He's a bit cranky sometimes, and hard of hearing, and he's getting a
    bit bony and isn't quite as limber as he once was, but he still gets
    around quite well, and can jump up on top the stove where it's nice and
    warm.
    
    len.
       

    
    Happy B day to Merlin, whome I enjoy reading about so much!
    
    Shaw

    When a cat turns 20, aren't they supposed to get a card/ophnoe call from
    the President?
    
    Happy Birthday, Merlin!
    THE FIRM and Deb

    The very best sunshiny wishes to Old Merlin. Might his days be yet
    long, healthy and happy!
    
    Nat & Smokey

         Happy Birthday, Merlin!  20 years old is a wonderful, long life! 
    My guys are working on making it to at least that age; what a good role
    model!
    
    					- Andrea
    					  Bigfoot (16yr10mo), Loki (14yr1mo) &
                                          Midnight (almost 5yr)

    Good old Merlin.....what a wonderful life he has led!!!  And
    I truly believe his younger brothers and sisters have kept him
    going!!!!  Here's to many many more good years for the mature
    old man!!!
    
    And...Happy Birthday to Floyd.  God...I remember the day you
    left the shelter with this tiny little kitty who sat in the
    palm of your hand.
    
    Sandy

    
    
    	Way to go Merlin!!
    
    	Thought of Floyd yesterday while in Newbury Comics.  The
    	band with the same name (Pretty Boy Floyd) has a new CD
    	out I think......
    
    

    
    WOW! Happy Birthday Dear Merlin!  Must be some magic in the old codger
    to have mde it to such a healthy and happy old age!
    
    (He should at least get greetings from Socks, the first REAL
    independant in the White House!)
    
    Best Wishes from Sue & Princess Panther Jane (10), Spots (10) and The
    CinnyMan (3 - 4?)

         If you send mail to Socks, you can get a postcard.  Can't remember
    exactly how, but the White House has a Web page (I *think* is
    http:\\www.whitehouse.gov ??) through which you can send mail to Socks.
    
         				- Andrea

    HB, O Ancient and Venerable Merlin.  The young'uns (and your pet
    people) are lucky to have you around!
    
    Leslie

    
    Well, petite little Robin has learned some naughty new things to do.
    
    She climbs the drapes now, like Rocky, but unlike Rocky, she does it
    slowly and methodically.  Rocky, who rockets up the drapes, usually has
    no trouble disengaging at the top, and stepping off onto the top of the
    bookcase.  Robin, who quite literally climbs up, has a bit of a
    problem getting over the traverse rod at the top.  So, I regularly find
    the drapes bent back at the top, with the drapery hooks spread wide
    open.  Of course, bending them back to their correct position time
    after time means that every now and then one breaks.  Robin's also
    decided that she can get from one bookcase top to the other by "tight
    rope walking" across the traverse rod, but, again unlike Rocky, who
    zips across, she makes the trip slowly and carefully, and unlike Rocky,
    whose boxing glove paws seem to give him adequate footing on the rod,
    Robin feels safer with her dainty little feet pushing against the
    drapery fabric, further stressing the drapery hooks.  Robin does this
    routine in all three rooms with drapes.
    
    Rocky's concluded that the bookcase tops are no longer his exclusive
    sanctuary, so he's found an easy way to leap onto the bedroom closet
    shelf, where I find him now increasingly frequently.
    
    Floyd seems to have forgotten how to leap up the bookcase, and I find
    him sitting on the CatNapper, looking longingly up at Robin...   
    
    Robin makes up for this naughtiness by being aggressively affectionate
    whenever I sit down or stretch out.  Her latest "oh you're so
    irresistably cute" trick is to stretch out on my chest and roll over so
    she can look at me upside down and get her snow white belly rubbed.
    
    len.
    

    
    We have a provocative mockingbird that visits every now and then, and
    sits on the balcony rail screeching at the windows.  It's almost as if
    he (she?) knows the cats are stuck behind the glass or screen and s/he
    can safely "mock" them...
    
    len.
      

    
    Old Merlin's getting more and more particular about where his water
    comes from.  He's never been a toilet bowl drinker, but he has shown a
    preference for water from the bathroom sink or bathtub.  I used to have
    to fill the sink for him to drink out of, but I was able to convince
    him that a bowl full of water from the sink faucet was just as good,
    though he had to see the bowl being filled before he'd believe it.
    
    Well, he's decided that the bowl is for the otehr cats, and he needs
    water from the tub.  He'll often drink hot water from the tub while I'm
    soaking in it, and the next best thing seems to be licking up the
    puddles on the bottom of the tub (which requires me to be careful about
    making sure the puddles are fresh whenever I use the tub or shower).
    
    This morning none of the old tricks would work, and Merlin stood on the
    rim of the tub howling plaintively.
    
    I don't why I never thought of this before, but in desperation I just
    refilled his bowl and set it in the bottom of the tub.  Voila!
    
    Oh, to know what's really going on behind those crystalline green
    eyes...
    
    len.
     

	Happy Birthday, Merlin�!  How wonderful!!

	Laura

    
    I think Floyd sensed he wasn't getting his "fair share" of attention
    in this conference, so lately he's started making sneak escapes into the
    outside hall when I get home in the evening.  He must hear me coming,
    and then waits at the door and the moment it's open wide enough, zoom,
    he shoots by.  The week before last he did this, and while I was trying
    to shoo him inside, everybody else came to watch, even Merlin.  Of course,
    this had to be just the exact same moment that *THREE* of my neighbors
    chose to leave their apartments, so while I'm trying to round up five
    cats, they're all oohing and ahhing, and I'm thinking, oh no, there
    goes my lease....
    
    (I know some of them have cats too (though only one or two), and nobody
    seems to have complained, so I think we got away with it). 
    
    I found a book on the real Pretty Boy Floyd on sale a few nights ago,
    so I bought it to read to Floyd about his namesake.
    
    len.
    

    
    Floyd's evening escapes are a daily occurrence now, and his success
    seems to encourage the rest of them.  They used to just hang around
    by the door, but now they trot off to explore the further reaches of
    the hall.  The laser pointer makes a semi-effective long range lure,
    and sometimes even succeeds at tricking them into following it into the
    apartment, but Rocky's decided it's not fun any more, so he ignores it
    and cooly saunters off.  He's gotten real good at the "stop and wait
    for Daddy to catch up and then just as he gets a hand on you run a few
    steps further away" routine.
    
    All the youngsters seem to be bouncing off the walls lately.  Do the
    "terrible twos" apply to cats as well?
    
    len.
    

    I think the "terrible twos" must apply to cats too, Len.  Our three 
    boys are acting totally "nutso" and no more so than last night when we
    returned from a quick weekend trip to New Jersey.  They literally
    jumped over chairs, slid around corners, bounced off the walls--then 
    came for quick "glad you're back, pet me quickly before I have to join
    the fun again" visits.  "Oh, there's a book, I can bite the cover,"
    Moritz is worse than any teething baby.  But we love them dearly!
    
    sm

Len,

I don't know what gets into them sometimes (we have three going through the
terrible two's - and bringing the older ones along for the ride).  Ours seem 
to pick Sunday morning as their favorite time to bounce off the walls, but
they've been pretty bad at other times too.  Last night Ronnie and Sophie 
were boxing on the back of the sofa; they both wanted the same spot.  Tatoo
and Kelly both wanted the hearth and kept inching the other off.  Reminds me
of three kids in the back seat of the car; all want a window seat and they
don't want the others touching them.  Sheesh!

As for evening escapes out the front door - been there too.  What we've had to
do to discourage it, is just crack the door open slightly at first and then 
lead with a briefcase or lunchbox, anything that blocks the floor level escape
route.  Once the door is open and blocked, we repeat "back back back - every-
body back back back" and wave a hand over the briefcase until they do.  Then 
we can get inside and get on with their dinner.  It must look pretty funny to 
the people across the street.  Good luck.

			SQ

    
    A colleague of mine at work learned that I like hot peppers and so
    offered me a selection from her garden.
    
    I brought them home - three different varieties, from mild to scorching,
    from mouse sized (hint hint) to small banana sized and set them on the
    kitchen counter.
    
    A little while later I returned to the kitchen to find the peppers
    scattered all about, and the two largest ones missing.  The small ones
    were on the kitchen floor - they're just the right size, and with the
    stems left on they even have tails...
    
    Well, I located the biggest one a little while later in the living
    room, with some teeth marks.  But the medium sized one was nowhere to
    be found.  And I checked the bedroom just in case one of my rodent
    warriors decided to leave me a gift.
    
    I go to bed, and in the middle of the night wake up, fluff up the
    pillows to return to sleep, and discover under the pillows the missing
    pepper!  I set it on a shelf in the bookcase next to the bed.
    
    I wake up the next morning, and there's no pepper in the bookcase.
    I'm thinking, "could I have dreamt this?'
    
    No, I find the telekinetic pepper a few minutes later, on the floor,
    with a few more teeth marks in it.
    
    The very hot small peppers seem to be staying put now, (hmm, does it
    seem like the water bowl is lower than normal?), but the bigger, milder
    ones still seem to "wander" away from the kitchen counter...
    
    len.
     

    This reminds me of the time I left an open bag of marshmallows on the
    kitchen counter overnight, and in the morning found marshmallows
    -everywhere- in the kitchen, each one with cat tooth marks in it.  Ah,
    those plump little white mouse-sized bodies :-)
    

    
    Those of you who get the Brody Shelter newsletter may have noticed that
    Merlin is the subject of the first of what promises to be a series of
    articles on adopting and raising the "three little kittens", based on
    material from this thread.  There's even a picture of the Old Guy napping.
    
    len.
    

    
    Yes!  Yes!  I was absolutely thrilled to open my copy yesterday morning
    and see the article & picture.
    
    

    I enjoyed reading the article....and can't wait for the
    next issue.
    
    Merlin looked GREAT!!!
    
    Sandy

    
    Will it be possible for one of the folks that have already read 
    their news letter to send me their old copy via snail mail?
    If so,    Shaw Entekhabi
              NIO/V20 
    
    Will be very happy to see this said article and picture of Merlin ;-)
    
    Thanks, 
    
    Shaw

         Could someone send me a copy too?
    
         Andrea Midtmoen Fease
         SHR3-2/A19
    
         Thanks much!
    
    					- Andrea

    Please.
    
    
    TROOA:TEMPLETON

    Old Nat wishes a copy too please...
    
    BPS/EGYED
    
    (Zolt�n "Nat" Egyed
     DEC HUNGARY MCS
     H-1775 Budafok 1. Pf. 123.
     HUNGARY/EUROPE)

    
    Uhm, are all you folks expecting *me* to send you copies of this?
    
    If so, please email me a complete postal mailing address.  I will only
    copy the issue's cover page and the page with Merlin's article.
    
    len (see what I get for bragging?).
     

    
    You may recall that we've acquired several CatNappers for the kids,
    including one for "spare parts".  The fleecy cover of this extra one
    serves as an extra layer of comfort on one their LLBean catbeds.
    
    Last night, I found Rocky snuggled up *inside* the fleece cover, sort
    of like the stuffing in a pita bread sandwich, using it like a sleeping
    bag.  I don't know how he figured out he could do this, the cover's
    been sitting there for months and everybody just lays on top of it.
    
    Must be these chilly nights; necessity remains the mother of invention.
    
    And Floyd!  Just how does he know exactly where my toes are under the
    bed covers?  No matter how still I hold my feet; no matter how cleverly
    I arrange for the covers to peak somewhere else, he unerringly goes
    right for my toes and bites them through the covers, as if he could see
    right through.
    
    len.
    

    
    Merlin seems to be putting a little weight on, now that I understand
    his eating habits.  He tends to eat a little bit, wander off, come back
    later to eat a little more, wander off, come back again, etc..
    
    Unfortunately, the youngsters will often eat everything in sight while
    he's wandered off.  So I've taken to feeding Merlin on the counter,
    and distracting the kids with a bowl of food in the "normal place".
    
    The problem is Merlin's gotten a bit forgetful in his autumnal years;
    though he remembers the general area where he gets fed, he seems to
    quickly forget where his reserved place is (though he has no trouble
    jumping up onto the counter when he wants to), and I have to remind
    him.  Sometime he'll come around and meow at me, then lead me to the
    feeding area, and look up at me as if to say "the food's all gone!
    Give me more!"  His nose doesn't seem to work as well as it used to,
    (and he's completely deaf now) so he has to be lifted up onto the
    counter and shown his reserved bowl.  "Oh yeah, I knew it was there."
    
    len.
     

    Len,
    
    have you started feeding him "senior" or "mature" food? Jimmy's sence
    of smell isn't that it used to be either (although he can smell roasting
    chicken from the opposite sire od the house). Purina mature and Friskes
    Senior, while thy don't "stink", have more or an aroma that can
    stimulate the older cats senses.
    
    Deb 

    
    I was feeding him "senior" style food, but since the youngsters steal
    most of it, and they need their nutrition, and Merlin's problem is not
    one of lower caloric requirements, I feed him (and the kids too) mostly
    chicken, lamb and veal based stuff, which my vet said will go easier
    on his kidneys and is still good for the youngsters.
    
    He does eat when he finds his bowl, so his poor sense of smell is not
    interfering with his appetite.  And his inability to find his reserved
    bowl is more a problem of his failing memory being unable to overcome
    the force of twenty years' habits of eating from the same place.  I
    think even if he could smell it he'd still wonder why it wasn't where
    he expected it to be.
    
    Taking care of a really old cat is a very touching experience.
    
    len.
     

    Ahhh...but Merlin is worth it!!!!   I remember when Mr Meow
    was 18 years old and started getting a little arthritic...he
    had a hard time squating all the way down when peeing in the
    litter box.   He would always attempt it....but because he
    couldn't get all the way down the pee would come flying out
    and miss the litterbox. (almost as if he was spraying) To 
    solve that problem...we built a cardboard (covered with 
    Plastic) fencing around three sides of the litterbox.  
    So if he missed the pee would atleast hit the plastic and
    end up in the box.
    
    Hmmm...what we do for our babies!!!
    
    Giver Merlin a big big hug from me!!
    
    Sandy

    
    I was going to ask if cats snore, because it seems Floyd does; but
    first I did a search, and sure enough, there's an old note about cats
    snoring.
    
    So, that's the latest news - Floyd snores.
    
    len.
    

    
    
    	Yup, mind do....
    
    	With the weather getting cooler, they all head for the bed at
    night, after the purring stops the snoring starts ....
    
    	Mike

>    So, that's the latest news - Floyd snores.
    
So does Sophie, and the older she gets, the louder she snores (right in my 
ear of course)!

			SQ    

    
    There's nothing cuter than my Fargas stretched out on his back with all
    four legs spread out, sound asleep and snoring.
    
    

    The copy of Floyd living on my screen here as a bitmap, does NOT snore
    (yet).
    
    Hugs from me to Old Merlin, too!
    
    Nat

    
    That's because you don't have the multimedia version, Nat!
    
    (Sorry, there is no multimedia version... yet)
    
    (Sound clips of Blueberry's chirps, Robin's whispers, Merlin's meowrls,
    Rocky's thunderpurr, and Floyd's snoring would be great to be able to
    share with everyone)
    
    len.
    
    

    
    As I was away on vacation for a week, the cats didn't get their regular
    ZoomGrooming.  When I finally got around to doing Rocky this weekend, a
    lot of that very fine close to the skin fur came out.  I rolled I up
    into a little mouse sized ball (it makes nice wool) and tossed it aside.
    
    Floyd immediately retrieved it and began playing mousie with it!  Robin
    soon joined him.
    
    I'll start to worry if I see either of them collecting claw clippings...
    
    
    len.
    
    

    
    The Three Big Cats, formerly the three little kittens, celebrated their
    THIRD birthday this weekend.  Daddy was not much fun, as he's passing a
    kidney stone, so the cats decided to help by jumping on his belly at
    every opportunity.
    
    len.
    

    Wow...it's been three years. Yikes!!!
    
    Happy B-day you lucky kitties!!!
    
    Sandy

    
    
    	Ditto Sandy's Wow!  Hard to believe it's been three years.
    
    

    they grow up so fast ...
    
    hope you are feeling better!
    
    Deb and THE FIRM
    

    Old Nat is queueing up in congratulations and wishing Dad good health
    as well.
    
    Nat & the Firm 
    
    [The Firm: (C) Deb,
    in this case: Smokey, ALphonse, Kiscica]
    

    >Nat & the Firm
           ^^^^^^^^
    Nat, my empathy (living with cats can be "different", but living with 
    feline attorneys, well, you know who always wins, and then some).
    
    Deb

    
    The next installment of the story of Merlin and The Three Little
    Kittens appeared this weekend in the Pat Brody Shelter newsletter.
    It's adapted from the early postings in this thread, but it includes a
    photo of me clutching the three little darlings shortly after they were
    adopted.
    
    BTW, (pretty Boy) Floyd will be two years old this week!
    
    len.
      

    Wow Len...you got your copy before I got mine!!!  Can't wait
    to read Part II of your story.  Hopefully it is in the mail
    when I get home!!!
    
    Sandy

    
    Oh, I hope mine is too!
    

    Got mine and saw your picture, Len.  Read the story again, although I
    had followed the saga here.  It made good reading the second time
    around too.
    
    Happy Birthday to Floyd from his brother Pooh Bear!!
    
    Sunni

    Time to get onto the web with the story, Len...
    
    Nat :)

    
    Today is the 3rd anniversary of the day I adopted Rocky, Robin and
    Blueberry!
    
    And it just gets better every day!
    
    len.
    

    so what kind of presents will you be bringing home for them to
    celebrate the occasion?
    
    Deb

    
    They get so many "presents" so routinely that I doubt they'd notice
    another few, no matter how special.
    
    But they all did get extra hugs and tummy-kisses, which they didn't
    notice as extra.
    
    len.
     

    Best wishes to you all!
    
    Nat
    &Alphonse, Kiscica, Smokey

    
    Last weekend was the 2nd anniversary of Floyd's adoption.  He's become
    quite the handsome young man, fully living up to his promise.
    
    But most incredible of all, Monday is officially Merlin's 21st birthday.
    
    len.
    

    Yeah, Merlin!  Furry kisses from Sweetie, Holly, Little Bit, and
    Blackie, and Karen.
    

    Wow...Happy Happy Birthday to the old man, Merlin.  May you 
    continue to be Happy and Healthy.
    
    God time flies...I remember the day you first saw Floyd and
    continued to say "I have enough cats...I have enough cats".
    (giggle giggle...of course you were with the wrong person
    who could not agree that you had enough cats)
    
    Sandy
    

    
    Happy birthday to Merlin and Floyd whome have been a great cuase of 
    entertainment for us these past couple of years ;-)
    
    
    Shaw

    Indeed, "Hippo birdies to ewes"!
    
    Leslie

    Happy Birthday to Merlin!!!!! 
    
    21 is quite a mile stone. The FIRM and I wish him many more!!!!
    
    Congrats to Floyd, too!
    
    Deb

    A special salute from the Colonel! 21 years, quite an accomplishment.
    
    Warm regards,
    Sari and The Colonel
    

    Wow, Old Merlin, go on, go on happily ever after!
    Nat & furstaff

    Happy Birthday, Merlin!  The young folk obviously keep you young too;
    many happy returns from
    
    Auntie Mopsy, Pooh Bear, Max, Moritz and their humans

    
    It's Floyd, Pooh Bear's brother, who keeps Merlin on his toes.  So
    much so that one day Merlin took a slice out of Floyd's nose!  Poor
    Floyd, he wants so badly to be Merlin's best buddy, but the old guy
    won't have anything to do with him. Little Robin on the other hand
    can push Merlin off my chest and he'll quietly find another place to
    curl up.  Of course, Robin's a pretty little girl and Floyd's a tough
    guy wannabee...
    
    len.
    

    >                        -< Merlin's a Sexist Old Codger >-
    
    I suspect that Robin would say that Merlin is just being a gentleman!
    
    Deb

    
    Rocky, Robin and Blueberry went to the vet yesterday for their annual
    checkup and shots.  Robin got suspicious the night before when the
    familiar cat carrier came down out of the closet and a new one appeared
    beside it.  Rocky checked them both out, and Blueberry, a Cave Cat if
    I've ever seen one, walked right in and made herself comfy.
    
    I prepared the bedroom so that once the door was closed there was no
    place for them to hide, planning to entice them in with their favorite
    toys (the mylar sparkle wand and the feathers on a string gadget).
    
    But Robin wasn't having any of it.  Somewhere in that pretty little
    head she remembered "toys and carriers = trip to the poke and prod place".
    She refused to even come near the bedroom, and not even the laser
    pointer's little red bug could entice her out of hiding.  For some
    reason this time (maybe she was just being wary, rather than outright
    convinced) she didn't hide in an inaccesible place, so I was able to
    saunter up to her making soothing noises (feeling like the worst of
    betrayers) and grab her.  She didn't put up much resistance (despite
    her small size she's easily capable of shredding me and leaping out of
    my strongest grasp), but she did start wailing, which of course started
    Rocky and Blueberry thinking, "maybe this isn't fun".
    
    All three of them sang all the way down the stairs and on the road to
    the vet, which is thankfully only two miles away.  Once in the
    examining room, the dreaded carriers had become fortress havens, and
    even upending her carrier was insufficient to induce Robin to come out
    for her session with Dr. Mackenzie.  When Robin's upset she makes the
    most amazing razorback with her fur, and her tail almost triples in
    diameter.  Blueberry spent most of her time cowering in the sink, and
    Rocky made a beeline for the carrier the moment Dr. Mackenzie let him
    go.
    
    Everyone checked out OK, we got a modest group discount, and we headed
    home, this time without most of the singing.  Once we were in our home
    corridor, I opened the carriers, and everyone bounded out.  Rocky and
    Blueberry ran off down the hall to our door, but Robin sat down in
    front of Malone's door (the ginger Maine Coon who lives at the end of
    the hall) and started calling to him.  I could hear Malone scuffling on
    the other side of the door.  "Come on Robin, that's not where we
    live!".
    
    It wasn't until late last night that Robin forgave me and would let me
    approach her without running away.  This morning everything was back to
    normal.
    
    len.      

    
    	I'm glad to hear that other cats cry out like someone is
    hurting them on the way to the vets.  My vet is close too, and 
    I feel so bad when I have to bring the cats due to they make
    it sound like they are on the way to an electic chair!
    				Sue

    
    My little girl Keesha always gets so scared she poops in the doctor's
    office ;-) 
    We take the three cats up to the mountains every weekend and for 
    some reason they know the difference. I wonder if they can read 
    our minds, as the preparation is same . Get in the cat carrier and
    go for a car ride. Funny thing is two of them the main coons like to 
    stay in the carrier, they get car sick out of it. So we have a big
    doggy kennel we put both of them in together. The third one starts 
    meowing the minute we put her carrier in the car, she has to get out
    always the first thing she does is have to go to the bathroom. So 
    we bring a litter box in the car. 
    
    Shaw

    Skrufy (and ol' lady kitty Moon, before him) has a very specific
    on-the-road-to-the-torture-chamber cry: a hollow, eerie, hopeless
    sort of sound.  I *only* hear it to/from the vet (an agonizing journey
    of 1.0 mile!).
    
    Skruf's brother Veto is none too happy, but I think the predominant
    emotion is confusion (one brick short of a load).  He's the one who fails
    to recognize the carrier and is thrilled to get in it when I bring it
    up from the basement.  Contrariwise, I think Skrufy gets suspicious
    whenever I go down cellar for *anything*.
    
    Leslie

    All I have to do is pick up one of the carriers to move it out of the
    way (even when no vet trip is planned) and Amelia makes a beeline for 
    under the bed.  This cat is too smart for her own good.
    
    Jan

    
    Yes, the "oh no we're going to the vet" cry is distinctive and heart
    rending.  You should hear Floyd's version of it; it makes me beg for
    forgiveness over and over and over again...
    
    Robin's favorite hideout when the carriers come out is behind the
    bookcase.  Utterly inaccessible (the bookcase in question is 7 feet
    tall and 22 feet long - it's open backed, but she can move herself much
    faster than I can move books).
    
    len.
     

    Amelia's favorite hiding place from the dread cat carrier is under
    the bed.  She stays right in the middle where I can't reach her from
    any side and when I shove the bed aside she moves with it.  The only
    way I can get her out is to fake her out by getting on the bed and
    reaching around the mattress and under the bed (which really shortens
    how far I can reach).  She usually thinks I've given up since she
    doesn't here me moving around and she gets a little careless so that I
    can catch a leg or foot and work my way up to her body and slide her
    out from under.  It's a tough job and I have to allow time for it
    before a vet appointment.
    
    The only way around this is to pick her up before I get near a carrier. 
    Even this is not foolproof though.  Sometimes I think they can read
    minds.  If I have "vet" in my mind as I go through my morning rituals
    they seem to be able to detect it in my mind even though I'm avoiding
    any of the telltale signs like the carrier.
    
    Jan

    
    I think cats (and dogs too) can be incredibly empathic - they don't
    quite "read our minds" but they are able to pick up on very subtle
    behavioural cues that we're not even aware of transmitting.  Like when
    we radiate *GUILT* when we're planning to take them to the vet.  Add a
    few more substantive cues (like "carriers have been out in the open"
    and "Daddy seems to want very badly to play with us") and some
    unpleasant memories of apparent betrayal, and bingo!  
    
    One time I had an appointment for the three of them that I had to
    cancel at the very last minute because Robin successfully led a rebellion
    and the three little rebels were all in hiding.  I had gotten Robin
    into the carrier first, but when I tried to put Blueberry in with her
    she squeezed passed and was gone.  (Lesson learned - Robin goes in her
    own carrier now.)  When I called the vet to reschedule the appointment,
    they said "don't worry, this happens a lot".  
    
    len.
    

    I make it the other way round. The vet comes to me to check & shot the
    furrers. And as for the vet comes by his own car, so I have no problems
    with a vet meowing in a carrier...  :)
    Nat