The foster room is packed! (Said Fred: “Well, that’s 60% of the house. The rest of the house should be a breeze.”) The boxes are all downstairs in the garage. Carrying all those boxes down the stairs was an experience (yes, I carried them myself. I’m stronger than I look!)
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Jake surveys his domain.
Not gonna lie, I’m going to miss that bay window over the sink. In truth, if we could have picked up this house and plopped it down in the middle of an acre or two, I’d have totally done that! Moving an entire house, as it turns out, is wildly expensive. Just a little helpful information from me to you.
“Stop following me, lady!”
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Previously
2020: Have I mentioned I could squoosh him all day long? I really really could.
2019: Charles, on the other hand, fretted and wailed and stuck his paws through the cage to pat at my shoulder, and paced as best he could, and then to top it all off, he used the litter box so stinkily that I had to stop and scoop the litter box.
2018: No entry.
2017: No entry.
2016: With the tufts on the end of his ears, Felix reminds me of a lynx.
2015: Pile of kittens on the rug in Fred’s room indicates that there was a recent drive-by nursing.
2014: “Dennis, my butt! Did you see it? Did you see my butt?”
2013: Apparently Norbert’s ears are a delicacy.
2012: No entry.
2011: “WHERE MY FOOD, LADY?”
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: First visit: not such a rousing success.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Greetings from Kitten Town, And3rsonville, USA, where I’m currently on Poop Watch.