I don’t know how I ever managed to have three cats all at once. Well, actually I do, but a death in the family can make you forget that cats run the house. You’re just lucky they let you stay. So while you’re running around frantically with all the last of the Christmas errands, let me slow you down a bit with the felines.

The Big Daddy around here is Smokey Robinson. The Teenage Eating Machine brought him home from our local ice house, The Old Timer, when he was 6 weeks old. He was an abandoned kitten and it didn’t take long for him to take over. Smokey’s the oldest around here and doesn’t want a thing to do with The Siamese Terrorist. Of course, who does?

Undercover cat

Sometimes Smokey likes to sleep under the cover on my bed. Whenever I change the sheets, he plays under the sheet and fight his way out. He’s always had both a bed and foot fetish. If he does sleep in the bed, he sleeps on top of my feet. I’m certain I’ve flipped him off the bed in the middle of the night without knowing it many times. Smokey only sleeps on my feet when it’s real cold.

Next in line is Chuck. He adopted us at 2:30 am on a very cold February night. I tried to just feed him and go back to bed, but he befriended the dog at the back door within minutes after his meal, so I brought him in. He immediately jumped up on the bed and went right to sleep.

Being an orange tabby, Chuck is extremely affectionate. He’s more like a boyfriend than a cat. He’s always flirting with me and likes to lick my face and bite my chin. I could live without the chin biting.

His favorite spot to sleep is on the couch but when it gets colder, he’s always on the bed. Chuck is the king of sleeping.

A classic mid-yawn shot

Ah, the cat’s life.

Of course then there’s The Siamese Terrorist. We can only hope that he sleeps. Most of the time he’s flying around the house breaking things, attacking the other animals, and causing mayhem in his wake. That’s why I like when he sleeps.

Ah, peace at last

If I can ever figure out how to download a video, I’d like to show you the trick Sammy has learned. He can fetch. I’m not kidding – just like a dog. He doesn’t play with mice, no, he plays with little tiny kitty soccer balls. I don’t know who invented soccer balls for cats, but I know of one very big fan.

I can throw the ball, he gets it, carries it back in his mouth and brings it to me. Then we do it all again and again and again. Might this be a money maker? Wonder if I can teach him to mop?

Sorry to rattle on about the felines around here, but I’ve got a bad toothache and I can’t concentrate on much else until I see the “Den-Tist” tomorrow. Maybe then, this Abominable Snowman will finally calm down.

Spreading laughter throughout the world…one throbbing tooth at a time.

Mikie Baker
www.mikiebaker.com