We celebrate purrdays, annipurrseries, and other celebrations on the
first Monday in September, AKA Labor Day.  I can remember Labor Day.
Most of the time my brain is a LITTLE fuzzy and I have more memory
problems with less excuse than my DH.

I found myself doing some thinking as I watched the owners this year.
Tanada, our GOW (Grouchy Old Womancat) is 15 now.  She shows her age
in the weight she's lost, the way she looks a little more fragile, and
her increased grouchyness.  We can't blame her much.  As I told her,
when I get the equivilant of 75, I intend to be even more grouchy.

I miss Berfert.  Berfert was Mike's (Son) cat.  He really owned all of
us with his offbeat sense of humor and love of irony.  He would have
been 14 on Adoption day.

QC is, we think, 10 now.  Offically a senior cat.  The only concession
she has made to her age is a slight decrease in her patience with the
younger set.  She's still our gentle giantess, hugging those she loves
and staring down the rest of the world.  I've never known anyone to be
deliberately hurt by her.  Sometimes she lets me hold her as I sleep.
I never have a bad dream if the Cooch is with me.

Sonya is getting more and more willing to let us love and scritch
her.  She is one of the few cats who likes to be petted.  I have a cat
bed on my desk because she loves to lay by my computer while I play on
it.  She is an elegant little thing, oriental in shape and exotic in
her looks.  We have an arangement with my water glass, I roll away
from it and pretend I don't know that she is up there and she drinks
my water and stirs my hair up with her tail.

Qui Gun Kit is still infatuated with his Miss LilyWhiskers in Wales.
He is also the only cat I know (off hand) who likes to have a human
make a platform with his/her arms so that he can ride in style.  Mike
taught him that.  QGK is the current class clown.  He does things.
He's different than Berfert was, there isn't the same sense of irony
in his behavior, but the humor is similar and QGK is every bit as
serious about his work as hoomin entertainer and trainer.

Merlin and Huey, Huey and Merlin.  The two of them are a team.  Huey
and Sonya are wink wink buddies, but his relationship with Merlin is
deeper in a way.  Sorta like two co-workers who hang out at the pub
after shift change.  They like to share the bed with us.  Huey takes
Rob's half and Merlin takes mine.  We twist our legs into pretzels
around them and curse them under our breaths.  We don't feel right if
they aren't in our beds at sleepy time, and have been known to go
looking for them.  I guess we're gluttons for punishment.

Pine Cone.  What can I say about PC, AKA "PC YOU FREAK!!!" other than
his b*st*rd cat tricks are improving and becoming more refined.  He no
longer tries to get Mandy in trouble for getting him wet.  He now
tries to get her in trouble for not getting him wet.  Especially if
she doesn't give him punk spiked fur.  If she doesn't let him sleep in
her room, he either cries at her door until I sneak over and open it
far enough for him to slip in, or he comes in and makes loud crunchy
noises at the feeding station, which is in our room to keep Speedy the
d-thing out of it.  If Mandy or Jim insult his sensibilities, he'll
not only rat them out, but he'll get even at the same time.  I
honestly think that he and Qui Gun Kit rival each other in the brains
as well as irritation departments.

I can tell when it is time for Rob's next course of Chemo by the
number of owners sharing our sleeping quarters.  Last week I had to
shift cats in order to share a swath (and I'm not small kiddies) less
than four inches wide with six owners.  The only owners not on the bed
were Sonya and Speedy (the d-thing).

I have no idea where Sonya was, but Speedy was doing his best to be
tossed out into the cold (as if) night air by sleeping on the sofa.
Mandy's boy toy, Jim, decided that it was unfair to Speedy not to let
him on the furniture.  I pointed out that not only was the d*g pretty
good sized, but letting him on the furniture messed up the heirarchy
of alphadom that we had carefully worked out.  You know: Cats, then
Rob, Me, Mandy, Mike, Speedy, then Jim.  By letting Speedy sleep on
the furniture, Jim was placing him higher on the food chain.  Neither
my future ex-son-in-law or the d*g were impressed.  So I promptly
kicked the d-thing off the furniture four times in the course of the
night.  I was none too gentle (or quiet) about it.  This morning I
found that the d-thing had spent at least part of the night on his
blanket.  A big improvement.

There have been a lot of other musings and thoughts over the past
couple of weeks, but I've bored you enough for now.  A thought
though.  Monday I turn 52.  I don't feel a day over 73.

Pam S. who really needs more sleep