I want them all

Not being able to foster any cats right now is killing me. There are a bunch of kittens at the Seattle Humane Society whom I've been photographing for their local TV appearances, and they are heart-slayers. But given that our foster room was originally Meow Meow's room (now obviously occupied) and our second foster room is now being converted to a room for the baby, we don't have an ideal foster space. And I'm not allowed to do any litter scooping or litter vacuuming or accident cleanup until this baby gets here, which means Dieter would have more janitorial duties than he can reasonably keep up with while working outside of the house.

So all of those darling little ones at the shelter are off-limits for now. Join me in squeeing over them from afar:



(Nope, this isn't the product of clever video magic; the footage, shot by another videographer at the SHS, is playing straight!)

I am NOT your squeaky toy

Meow Meow is a very tolerant kitty. She's always accepted the various cat care operations we've had to perform on her without too much protest -- nail clipping, teeth cleaning, even disinfecting and bandaging her back paws when she rounded a carpeted corner a little too quickly and yanked out almost all of her hind claws such that they bled (it's a long story we'll save for another day). In short, she possesses admirable patience.

Which, occasionally, Dieter takes advantage of for his own entertainment.

While Meow Meow will roll onto her side with abandon to accept belly rubs, she hates being put on her back. Here's what happened when Dieter, in a moment of mischief, decided to find out how long it would take for her to get out of such a predicament in her favorite place, a nice warm lap: