Clare and Kiri from eat stuff organize weekend cat blogging to provide us with an excuse to bring on the cute...and we're all happy to oblige...
People talk about dog years, but what about cat years. I'm not sure how long a cat year is, but I can tell you one thing: six week old kittens are the same as human toddlers, about 18-20 months old, if my memory of the theKid is right. Everything fragile that I care about is packed (or sitting on a tabletop, well, mostly sitting on a tabletop), the house is thrashed, kitty detrius is strewn down the hallway, and a few times an hour I hear the thump of a head hitting hardwood and wince, waiting for the following whine.
Personalities are emerging, to the extent that we can guess which kitten is connected to which noise, and, more often than not, why. If there's a sudden lonely cry, it means T3 just realized she's all by herself and wants attention. A pained yowl means theFluffling has forgotten the size difference between himself and the "three babies"...again. (resulting in an introduction to gravity — wherein he is gently dangled upside down for 15 seconds while being talked to in theBadVoice — then someoneElse holds fruffleFace in his lap, while tenderly stroking the his face and saying, "you have to be gentle with the babies" repeatedly while I dissolve in laughter.)
Then there are days like today. I sat down on the floor with a camera while the kittens romped on a sunlit patch of floor. Adorable kittens playing in gorgeous natural lighting and space for about 170 pictures on my CF card, what could go wrong...go wrong...go wrong.
Perhaps there will be more pictures this week. Perhaps not. Perhaps if there are more, they will be of kittens that are in playing in natural light rather than kittens who are climbing on me in natural shadow. Perhaps not.
