Isn't that a great move? I predict big things for that. There must be a dozen or so kitties who were shorted half their alotted cuteness, because McKinley has all twelve halves.
Yesterday I heard this tink tink tink coming from the stairway and I looked over and MJ's red winter earmuffs stumbled out of the stairwell with McKinley right behind them.
They collapse and twist into a ball, and he likes that. The ball shape. It sticks to his paw too, so he can flip it up in the air. Oh the fun. Today, there's another yarn-ball cat toy, a perfect match in size, sitting right next to it. Touching edges. Can't wait for MJ to get home to show it to her. I don't know how it got there from the upstairs, but I have a suspect. He was up there while I was showering, pushing stuff off the edge of the tub into the shower. Seemed to think that was amusing and where those stupid shampoo bottles really belong.
Soon the weather will suck, and he will be constrained to the sog.
He's so cheery though, I'll miss him.
He announces himself everytime he comes in. Yesterday he came in hungry, saw Fui at her bowl of food, and literally came over to me and complained and cried. He wanted some fairness here. He wants me to get him his own bowl.
He is, apparently, invisible to the other cats, as he walks right by them, like he's invisible, but his bitchy sister Fat Abigail growls at them, in the same situations. Abby's face looks ~ honest ~ like a cartoon of a mouse. Dead ringer for a very dumb mouse. She fights McKinley, aka Mr Social and Compliant, out of the bowls, even though she is smaller and WAY fatter. Looks like kittens are on the way, but apparently not. She seems to have an Eating Order, as opposed to an Eating Disorder.
Providing all this uncontrolled food so the older ones can eat at will has turned Stumpy into an embarrassment. Especially when he sits down facing you. It's impossible not to notice how small his head is in relation to the rest of the mass, that balloons out beyond the forelegs, and droops onto the linoleum. He's a caricature, too. Or a shape ~ he's a triangle. I assume he will "tone" after the oldies kick the bucket. We certainly hope so. But he has to eat out of everyone's bowl, and this plan of political oppression has had its consequences.
Still, since he continues to hunt The Elusive Mole, and patrol the perimeter, we let him have his butter on his salmon. I don't think he's going to "get" the mole, because he doesn't seem to "get" that he will have to dig for him. I think maybe he thinks the moley's going to pop out of the piles of dirt, or should, and is really just a coward; he tries to imagine such a cowardly animal as won't even fight him. The nerve! Still, he is vigilant, and spends hours sitting on the rock.
It's his number one Domestic Issue, on this year's docket. Number two was the changing of the porch stairs, which severely upset his catnip cart. He's a REAL neophobe. Don't go changin stuff. Puh-leeze. He can barely handle the stress. He gets those very, very, sad eyes, even if you take the blanket out of his box to wash it. Disturbance, it is. Pressure. Consternation. Woe. Uncertainty.
All in all, not unlike his dad. |
