OK, I've been talking to the cats. A LOT. But it's my way of getting them
used to their new home and their new humans.

Every time they do something good, or even just something that they're
allowed to do (such as play with their own toys or sit on a particular
piece of furniture that it's OK to go on), I tell them "Good boy!" I
figure that, since they're 9 months old, and I really don't know what
rules they had to abide by before they arrived at the shelter, I'd do well
to praise them every time they do anything that they're allowed to do.
Then they'll know that it's OK to carry on with whatever it is.

So, anyway... this is how it's been for a week now. Cat comes to Meowmy
for attention. "Good boy!". Cat eats his food. "Good boy!" Cat drinks his
water. "Good boy". Plays with his toys... uses the litterbox... curls up
for a nap... you get the idea. EVERYthing legal gets them a "Good boy!"

But I realized this morning that I have "praise mode" on the brain. Why?
Because when I locked the front door this morning, then checked to make
sure it was completely closed/locked, I discerned that it was locked
properly.

And then I told the lock, "Good boy!"

Too bad I can't call out sick from work with a rampant case of insanity.
;o)

Donna, and the good boys known as Captain and Stanley