Cat Season

Cat season has begun.  It's too cold outside to hang around in the barn yard or play fetch with the puppy.  With ice and wind outside, it's time to follow the cat's lead, and hang close to the fire.  Luckily, with three house cats, there's usually at least one who wants to be a warm fuzzy lap warmer at all times.  

They pile up and preheat the couch cushions for me.

Max enjoys movie nights, but usually falls asleep before the show really gets started.  I know some other old men who do the same thing.

Newt, you aren't helping.

Ditto is so secretive he's hard to capture in a photo.  He blends into the shadows even when he's right there.  I think he's my prettiest cat, with the silkiest fur and is most svelte.  Unfortunately, he is terrified of people (and all noises), so no one gets to admire him.  The last time my nieces tried to pet him, he squeezed himself into a tiny gap behind the hot water heater trying to escape, and we had to organize a rescue mission.  

If Max is the oldest (eighteen), and Ditto is the prettiest, then Newt is the nicest.  She's also the best mouse hunter, and the only cat who has jumped on to the top of the hot wood stove and burned her toes.  She has fast reflexes though, so she barely touched down before she leaped away.