Day 244: I have yet to meet a cat who doesn't dislike the soul-stealer, and Merry is no exception. He posed for his official portrait somewhat reluctantly, and I had to do a fair bit of processing to bring him out of the shadows because I didn't dare use the flash. This is one smart young gentleman. He has already trained me in the matter of plastic spring toys. They belong in the kitchen where they can be batted about on the linoleum, not in the living room where the carpet interferes with their movement. If I throw one across the rug, he takes it in his mouth, trots like a prize stallion out into the kitchen and then begins playing with it. On the flip side, he seems to know that if I point directly at him when he's thinking about jumping up on the bathroom counter from the toilet seat, I mean "that's not a kitty place." There is a lot of give-and-take in raising a kitten and in training a mama, and the largest factor in success is patience, lots of patience. And that I have. Who else do you know who has wild birds (six species and counting) eat from their hand?
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