IBKFergus isn't actually black. Sure, he looks 100% black except for close
up when you can see the odd white hair, but in certain light you can see
tabby stripes and spots. And this mornign while he was busy extracting his
daily blood sacrifice requirement from my hands, I saw that undereath his
black fur, there is grey fur. He is, in fact, just a very very dark grey
tabby cat.

I am now looking forward to seeing how his adult coat will turn out. I
suspect he'll have more in common with Shmogg that both would care to think
about right now.

Last night was the third night IBKFergus spent out of his crate (I had to
give it back tot he rescue lady). Thankfully, he killed most of hte bedmice
on his first night, so he can catch and kill the few remaining ones by about
11pm and then settle down. Bed territory has been sorted out so that Shmogg
takes up his traditional role of by my head, and IBKFergus curls up at the
back of my knees. IBKFergus has turned out to be a power purrer! Who woud
have thought such a deep rumbly loud harley davidson sort of purr could come
from such a tiny body!

Which brings me to the weird point. As long as Shmogg can't actually *see*
IBKFergus, and IBKFergus can't actually see Shmogg, they will happily
cohabitate on my (well, their) bed - with my reclining body acting as the
visual barrier. But woe is me if they happen to actually get a glimpse of
each other, all hell breaks loose and I quickly become the human equivalent
of Hamburger Hill, I am ground zero as the fighting occurs directly upon me.

Now surely Shmogg would be able to hear the purr of IBK (cripes, the
*neighbours* probably can), and he can't be *that* stupid as to not realise
that it is coming from IBKFergus on the bed, but it seems as long as I don't
make the mistake of turning over and exposing each cat to a direct visual
confirmation of the presence of the other, both are happy to believe that
the other is simply doesn't exist.

IBKFergus has yet to work out the morning routine and how to jump on my
bladder as a way to hurry up the gooshyfood for breakfast, but Shmogg has
taught him about the nightly routine of Getting In My Face. By about 9:30pm,
whatever guerrilla warfare has been waged by the critters against each other
during hte day is called to a ceasefire, and they all gather around the
gooshyfood dispensing mechanism (ie, me) and all give me thier version of
hte "I am but a poor and starving critter, please take pity on me and feed
me just the merest morsel so I may survive for just one more pitiful day on
this earth". Its amazing how all three - who entirely fail to acknowledge
get along during daylight hours - can all work in tandem like that. Shmogg
of course already knows how to howl if the food doesn't appear within the
specified time, and Fluffy knows how to scratch and whimper like she's about
to die, but the Oscar for the saddest most gooshy-food enducing act of all
already goes to IBKFergus who kneads at my ankles and mews pathetic little
"Why isn't my Mummy feeding me? Mummy? Are you OK? Mummy? Mummy? Whats
happened to Mummy?" mews. If I didn't know any better, I'd be heartbroken by
9:30:05pm each night.

I also have to feed them in the order of most likely to eat the other's
food. Which mean Fluffy has to be fed first. She eats *anything* even
remotely food like, and some things which I'm sure were probably only edible
in a past life. Fluff gets locked inthe garage with her food for the night
so she can't steal Shmogg's food. Shmogg is next, and is fed on top of the
old washing machine. We started to feed him there so as to stop Fluff from
eating cat food, but Fluff grew too big, and at least disposes of whatever
SHmogg hasn't eaten before it gets maggoty (very quick where we live). And
then we have to feed IBKFergus last, so that the other two are busy with
eating their food and won't eat the incredibly overpriced kitten food. Of
course, IBKFergus doesn't particularly like kitten food, preferring everyone
else's food to his own (naturally) but thats what he's going to get for
another few weeks or until his tail stops looking a denuded pencil pine and
starts looking more like a cat tail (ie, when he graduates to 'cat' rather
than 'kitten').

Cary still thinks IBKFergus makes a great animated toy and IBKFergus still
thnks Cary's ankles have the sweetest blood of all, so I figure they are
pretty much fair game for each other. They both have the ability to yell out
if the other's games get too much (they don't do that as often as you
think), but I can't figure how to keep them apart, and also figure that one
day they'll work out how to play with each other nicely. Neither seems to
actually causing the other any actual damage, so as long as one of us is
their to supervise Cary, deter IBKFergus from maiign serous inroads into
Cary's ankles with the SquirtGun of Death and to extract IBKFergus from
Cary's super-human destructo-grip, things are pretty stable (as stable as
chaos can be I guess).

Still, my kitten fever is well and truly in remission at the moment. And
once all the lights are out, and we all settle down for a good night's
sleep, the last thing I do is look into Shmoggs eyes, and we both sigh
"Kids!!!!" at each other.

Yowie