muninnhuginn | The Mysteries of Cats

Little is, a least judging by the decreasing bumpiness of her spine, fattening. She has declared quite strongly that Sheba is out. But tins of Gourmet Gold are acceptable--at least the gravy parts.

This week she's told us enthusiastically that she's an Iams cat. Socks agrees.

Mainly, however, I think it's the Whiskas cat milk that's made the biggest difference. That and not refrigerating part open cans of food or the milk. Cold is not good.

The extra eating has improved her mood. There's less whingeing. She's snuggly rather than clingy. If she's still haunting the last places that Biggle sat, well, we've all got used to it.

Somehow all this has communicated itself through the house, as....

Upstairs, Ozzle is expanding his range of places to sleep--including sentry-wise in a propped-up laundry basket--and increasing the volume of his purr very satifactorily.

And Socks. Socks sleeps in the (empty) sink, bathes in the (empty) bath, and spends as much time as possible on the stairs peering into the dining room. Yesterday, he nearly left us by the front door (not so good) and came and joined us for supper (roast duck) whilst Little slept on obliviously.