i found a kitten in the bushes at the train.  .  so i put her in my
pocketbook and took her home.  after a series of name changes from
princess to hendrix (as in jimmy) ,none of which fit, we settled on THE
CAT....at first THE CAT kept a distance from the weasel ward,incredulous
at the mayhem,too dignified to acknowlege the roaming band of desperados..
 
These days things are different, as THE CAT has had her brain cells
altered by the weezils and thinks she is one.  She waits expectatantly by
the cage door in the morning for me to let the weezils out.  THE CAT is
ready to party down!- she chases the weezils and the weezils chase her,
she pretends they are prey and they pretend she is prey.  back and forth
they fly thru the house, the weezils dooking and war dancing and the cat
hopping up and down,jumping up on furniture only to pounce an unsuspecting
weezil.  lately THE CAT has developed a culinary preference for the weezil
food and ignores the tender vittles..she prefers to play with a bag rather
than the pricey cat nip or kitty toys.
 
The other day as my daughter and i were watching television THE CAT made a
vain attempt to run thru the 12 foot weezil tube.  having failed at this
she grabbed a bite of the ferret yogart crunchies on the kitchen floor
and squeezed under the couch to sleep with the weezils.  THE CAT did not
settle into her basket on the sunny window ledge.  my daughter said to me"
but ya know mom THE CAT is weird, THE CAT thinks it's a weezil now..
don't you think THE CAT behaves strangely ?"
 
well ,i said to my daughter ' when in rome do as the romans do" ---
 
peace,
christine
[Posted in FML issue 3572]