The kittens are doing well. No news to report, though I’ll tell you what: if Rambo climbs up my back one more time, he’s going to find himself locked in his room full-time. Ye GODS does that hurt.
That reminds me, actually. Yesterday morning, Rambo and Jodie were running around like little hellions, and at one point they were both on my leg, fighting with each other, and I became aware that I was in great pain because each of them was hanging OFF my leg by claws that were dug into not only my pants, but the skin beneath my pants, and it REALLY HURT. I got mad and yelled “STOP IT!”, and to emphasize my point, I picked up the can of compressed air and shot it in the air, and in half an instant, there was not a single cat in sight.
And they stayed gone for a good fifteen minutes before they tentatively came back around, looking at me and acting like they thought I might beat them.
Jodie, up close.
Rambo loves to pick fights with Mister Boogers and then act all “Oh, help! I am but a wee kitten and I am being beaten up by this cruel, cruel kitty who is three times my size!”
If you’d been licking Rambo’s butt, you’d look this disgusted too. Believe me.
Shnoozin’.
More shnoozin’.
Jodie, hanging out on the back of Fred’s desk chair.