Bryce --
 
I'm sorry that your wife and Kittee aren't getting along, or rather that
Kittee likes your wife so much.  Could be just a stage: Rikki went through
a one-year stage of being a kind of rocket-powered hirsuit hotdog, with
primary interests ranging from setting land-speed records between the
bedroom and living-room and writing my doctoral thesis.  (After she
figured out how to get on the desk with the computer running, nothing was
the same.  I had to change all my macros to innocuous functions to keep
her from faxing my papers all over creation.)  We also never caught her
sleeping -- but she's slowed down over the last month into a kind of
Idling '67 Mustang phase, where she only goes from zero to sixty during
the green lights.
 
One possible solution (your wife will love this idea) is to get her a
playmate, if she hasn't got one, to help drain off some of the energy. (I
mean a playmate of her own kind).  Twice the happiness, right?
 
As for dragging her sleeping-sack into the litter-box, well, I have no
ideas except maybe a two-chambered cage: they (ferrets) tend to keep the
litter-chamber separate from the sleeping-eating chamber when they can.
If you figure out how to keep her from climbing on the table, please let
me know.  Winston, our eldest, believes that the answering machine is some
kind of deity, and frequently leaves memos on it.  He's fascinated by the
sounds, lights, and moving parts, and won't stay off the table.  Still, as
hobbies go, it's better than shooting up post-offices.
 
Love,
Otter
 
[Posted in FML issue 0687]