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]