Strip Club

Since Sheila has become so possessive, Missy meets me inside the barn and leads the way to her bowl.  She's a tiny cat with a squeaky mew, but boy, can she purr!  She fully expects to be petted while she's crunching on her kibble, and I'm happy to comply.  I noticed yesterday that each stroke would bring off a pile of fluff.  It's nature's way of ridding creatures of their winter coats.  With the sudden onset of heat, I can imagine they can't wait to strip down.  Back at the house, Celeste claimed some lap time.  I keep a cat brush by my chair for these occasions and, like Missy, Celeste shed brush after brush of loose fur.  Ralph was too busy to sit still for grooming, but his red coat is not nearly as thick as his sister's so I'm not too worried about stripping him.

Like my own Kids, Ralph and Celeste may be siblings, but they are so different in many ways.  Celeste is a couch potato, only chasing Ralph when he has pushed her patience past endurance.  Ralph is that kid who can't sit still, racing up and down the hallway and the stairs.  Oh, they take long catnaps together, but when they wake up, it's Katie bar the door again.  When the cats arrived, I had to put their bowl up on the counter because Bess decided that food was food, and wasn't it nice to get a variety.  For the same reason, cat treats are dispensed on the counter.  There are times I have to lift the little ones up and, again, their differences are apparent.  Celeste is a solid, heavy lump while Ralph is a lightweight.  I have to watch myself or I'd fling him into the air!

I'm finding my way around the computer better (that's a relative term), but turned it off much sooner yesterday.  For one thing, when the sun came up the bedroom heated up, and there are only so many clothes one can strip off and stay "decent."  (I try.)