I was reminded yesterday that I have not published anything on my blog in a few days. With the Felons living with me, it seems unlikely that they have not done something worth reporting, so clearly I have been amiss in keeping everyone apprised of their doings.
They continue to be active, except more so. As they grow, they are able to explore further. Kittens must have a sense of something new (ie. something new to investigate) because whenever there is anything changed in the apartment, and the children are on the loose, they find it, even if they can’t see it. I left a bucket out of its usual storage spot, and the next thing I knew, Bisto was curled up in it, scratching the insides.
And with their growth comes greater strength, farther leaps, higher altitudes. Oleo has found his way on to the top of the bookcases of the library. I periodically have placed food-bowls there, temporarily out of the way, while I clean or move things about. I can no longer do this.
The kittens are like characters from a 1970s action/cop show, Starsky and Hutch, perhaps: they never go around when they can go over, never wait when they can barge through. The direct route is always the best, even if there are a dozen obstacles. I wonder at what stage of their aging the maturing cat deems it either undignified or too much a waste of effort to engage in such shenanigans. I know my perma-cats would rather lie on the floor and wait for an obstacle to erode over the course of time rather than confront it. Mannix eventually becomes Nero Wolfe.
But commercial breaks are included in the on-going tv series that is my life with kittens, and periodically they collapse and need rest. Stimulation ceases, curiosity is closeted, eyes are shut, and toe-beans displayed.