The boys discovered a lost Midnight Crazy ball in the basement this morning. Did craziness ensue? Well, not so much. I'm not chronicling kittens anymore. They took a few half-hearted swipes at it and then immediately flopped on their sides exhausted and bored silly. Apparently it takes a lot more to excite a teenage cat. Like a tap running. Oh brother, are these fur-faces weird. Still if I have one of the boys all calmed down and asleep in my lap the slightest noise from the brother in the other room rouses enormous curiosity. "What's going on in there?! Is he having more fun than me?" The cat in my lap jumps up and heads in the other room to investigate. Rooney is the most prone to this. He's convinced something fascinating is going on that is more deserving of his attention. Something at the door! A car horn! A bird chirp! Frankly, he'd make a darn good watchdog. I wonder why they don't use cats anyway? They're smarter and you could train them to press an alarm button. You could. Of course with my watchcats they'd just run up to the intruder then suddenly flop over on their sides so they could get their stomachs rubbed.
Not very threatening. Unless you're afraid of cats in which case it's terrifying. Ack! They're try to roll on me! xxx dad
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