The Caturday Post

NO PIX just news. The kittens went in for their 3,000 mile checkups today…

Surely you exaggerate!

No, I do not. And stop calling me Leslie.

Ha! And again: Ha!

BUT… if you think it’s an exaggeration that three itty bitty kitties can go 3,000 miles between checkups, you obviously must be sleeping when — like now, a midnight — they’re running relay races through the house at Warp Factor Ten.

WHAT. Everrrr.

Pleased to report they all seem to be in good health and have broken the four-pound mark by an ounce or three each. And, as noted above, are feeling in fine fettle and rambunctious. They’ve even got Oliver wound up as they scurry, scamper, bound, lope, gallop, run, and b’doop around the ol’ Casa.


Sure. Haven’t you seen that little maneuver they do that’s sort of a cross between a scamper and an Olympic triple-long-jump? Where they hop crabwise across the floor: b’doop, b’doop, b’doop. Stop. B’doop-b’doop. Like a cartoon cat sneaking up on a giant mouse.

Oh, that. Yeah. Now’t y’ mention it, I’ve seen ’em do that. Cute li’l suckers, ain’ they?

That’s kind of their reason for livin’. Cute is their profession.

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