Our family was really surprised when the stray cat Skitty managed to give birth to two, beautiful, gray kittens. (It appears she had a fling with the Russian Blue down the street.) One kitten had subtle hints of her tortoise shell heritage hidden here an there in her soft, gray fur. The other was pure gray, with hints of silver around her tiny, charcoal, nose pad. We named her Blue. Thanks to the mass of kitten photos my daughter had on her I Pad, the first kitten found an excellent home as soon as she was of age, but Blue swiftly caught hold of our hearts, and this kitten we have vowed to keep.
Unlike her brothers, who are growing like kittens do, Blue is morphing into something more unusual. Perhaps this is just a stage. I have never owned a Russian Blue before, but our little Blue is starting to look very different.
Perhaps she will grow back into those ears???
Forgive the little hints of cold around her eye. Seven of my cats have had it. Blue is the last to recover. The vet says it just has to run its course.
With the cold keeping us inside, my husband and I have been making a monumental effort to change one of the spare rooms upstairs into a guest room. Years of putting things into “temporary storage” has left us with a monumental mass of clutter. Really, when the VCR DVD player quit, it should have gone out with the trash. What was I thinking … And why do we save books that we have no intention of reading … And if something is unusable, why do we save it just because Aunt Clara gave it to us ten years ago? Use it, pitch it, or pack it up for Goodwill, has become my motto. Unfortunately, our efforts have uncovered something most disturbing. Mouse droppings. I would shame the cats, but they are not allowed in the spare rooms. (Lest they get lost and never find their way back home.) This week they have been obliged to explore every nook, cranny, and box in search of hidden treasures. Fuzzy fabric, pieces of lace, discarded socks, and our fragile, little Jazzy found something even more exciting. A Mouse!!!
Out of our eight cats (Yes, I did say eight) Jazzy was the one we least expected to be a hunter. Born in a litter plagued by birth defects, Jazzy was the only survivor. Being severely anemic, his chances of survival were slim, yet at fourteen weeks old, he is bouncy, active, and still with us, and now he is a successful hunter. We are so proud of our baby!
There is nothing like having kitty help to do the laundry.
Folding laundry is hard work!
I honestly don’t know what little Boots’ obsession is with the remote, but he is quite determined that this toy belongs to him.
Mine! Mine! All Mine!
It’s really surprising to me that so many of my new cats will sit for long periods of time and watch television. What is even more surprising is that the kittens have also decided that they should have possession of the remote.
No, you can’t have it back. It’s my turn to choose.
Now, which button is the kitten channel?