You can’t see Bolitar’s face, but he’s there!
We’ve now hit the point where when we get up and leave the room, the kittens – even if they’re paying no attention to us and are off playing with each other or a toy – try to follow us out the door. Bolitar, especially, runs for the door when I leave. He’s made it out once or twice, then he just stands there and looks around like “It’s a whole new world!” until I pick him up and set him back in the room.
Then he howls at the door. OH does he howl. Sometimes another kitten will join in on the howling, and OH their hearts are just breaking at the injustice of not being able to get through the door, they are PERSONALLY insulted at this turn of events.
Luckily it doesn’t last for long, and then they toddle off to play or sleep or whatever.
Corbett.
Lap o’ kittens.
::maniacal laughter::
“Babies? No. There are no babies in there. I accidentally swallowed a basketball. It’ll go away. Seriously!”
I have to get a shot of Maura from above – she seriously looks like she swallowed a basketball. Her appetite seems to have ramped up – before, when I’d bring her her plate of canned kitten food in the morning and evening, she’d come over and greet me and rub up against me, maybe inspect my litter box scooping technique, and then wander over to the plate. Nowadays, she dives right into the plate of food and doesn’t come up for air until it’s gone.
I guess she needs plenty of food to grow those babies.
I mean, that basketball.
Newt would like Elwood to stop hoggin’ the box. (Those ears at the bottom of the picture belong to Miz Poo, who was sitting on my lap.)
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Previously
2009: Here we go, all seven present and accounted for!
2008: No entry.
2007: Their evil chicken talons don’t poke holes in the kiddie pool?
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.