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She keeps rescuing them from the pound. They're everywhere. I can't believe it. The dog keeps sneezing fur balls. It's completely out of hand.
The smallest of these new rulers of this roost is named Toby. His hair is bigger than he is and it's black with gray and white tips. Green eyes. He was adopted on Halloween. He was pretty damn sick, covered in his own snot and poop, but Mom got that all taken care of and now he has decided that I am his head slave. He starts to climb up my pants, gets stuck, and yells at least eight times an hour. My function is basically laptude.
The others are flying every which way and Cookie, the dog, the Yorkie who is smaller than most of the cats, and has seniority, is chuffed.
Mom put the kittens' cat box and food right where my computer gets set up when I'm here, and so it's beyond a mere hassle to get on my machine and do the posts I want, with the images I want.
So if I'm not blogging much in this mess, feel free to battle HaloScan to direct us all to items of interest.
Just now I think I will retreat to my room, shoo out the cats and curl up with a good magazine....
19 November 2008
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