I didn't do it.
I'm just looking.
It has been a while since the last report on the kitties. They continue to grow and amaze us. Little Mokito is a spitting image of his mom. He has been in the swimming pool twice. He manages to get out, just like Moka did when she went in three times, but we are not sure how he ends up in the water to begin with. All cats think the swimming pool is one giant bowl of drinking water. At night the entire outdoor commando sits around the edge of the pool, where it is a little cooler temperature wise and perhaps in status: "Yeah, I hang around the swimming pool all night and sleep in the shade all day, I'm cool...."
Moka had surgery two weeks ago. She had a chance to experience motherhood, and the good fortune of keeping all her kids with her. Sorry, Moka, but we had to do it. She had a little trouble with recuperating, she insisted on cleaning and ripping out her stitches and the kittens were matting on her tummy while feeding. Moka ended up back in the hospital for nylon stitches, the weekend, and returned with an Elizabethan collar. Moka was not happy with me. Now that a week has passed, and the collar is well out of sight (no, I did not leave it on for five days....I could only tolerate 5 hours of Moka's misery), Moka feels so much better she is starting to act like a kitten again.
Watching kittens play is a full time activity. I can't say job, because no one would pay to have you watch kittens play....bummer....but it is the job I have taken on full time. One could write a book aout learning life's lessons by following around curious little Mokito. And one might have time to write a book if he or she only had to follow around Mokito. But there are four of them, a fussy mom, and the outdoor commando who all have some psychological problems. So there is no time to write the book!
The cats use two cat boxes which need cleaning daily. Their feeding area is attractive to ants, and there is usually a complex trail of ants with freeways, detours, high roads and low roads leading to the cat dishes. I feed the housecats who put a dent in the first plates of food. They walk away, prean and clean themselves, play and sleep. Meanwhile the outdoor cats have snuck in to finish off the morning feed. They are in a hurry and leave food all over the floor, beckoning the ants....that completes that cycle. I come along with my Fabuloso and paper towels trying to pick up the mess and get it into the trash before the ants start biting me. They have a wicked bite. Then I am off to the living rooms with a broom, where Buster's been rolling in catnip and it now looks like the floor of the church at San Juan Chamula. It looks like someone took a bag of weed and tossed it in the air. I guess that is what I did, actually.
I am not blaming the cats for my brain freeze. Or brain fry as I referred to my writer's block in a former blog. I am not blaming anyone, really. My problem is that I would rather just be one of those kittens. But I am not. No one is going to feed me when I complain that I have spent all my money on cat surgeries and catfood.