There is good news and there is bad news.

One of the bits of good news is that one of my new cats appears to be a mouser. I'm putting my money on Norma who spent the first year of her life in the wild and raised a litter all by herself.

The bad news is that I cannot find the mouse that she deaded. I have torn the downstairs apart looking in about a bazillion nooks and crannies and so far have found zero deceased mice. However, the downstairs is full of the delicate scent of Eau de Dead Mouse, so I know that somewhere there is a small corpse putrefying.

Oh happy day.

The S.S. Love Boat has apparently set sail with Enid and Norma aboard. I came downstairs this morning to find Enid affectionately bunting Norma and Norma actually beginning to groom her. It looks as if Enid's "I love you, man" approach to the world has paid off.

Zubby, however, not only refuses to hop aboard the Love Boat, he's actually picketing it. This morning when I opened the door to call him in for breakfast, he was waiting on the front step. With a large mouse. A large mouse which he proceeded to eat, making sure that I was watching.

When he was done, he refused to come into the house. I am interpreting this as being cat speak for, "I don't need you OR your steenking food." He has taken to sitting in the driveway and sending feline death waves at the kitchen window that looks out on to our bird feeders. Norma likes to sit in that window and watch the birds.

There has been some trash talked. By both of them. Frankly, I am shocked that Norma knows those kinds of slurs. So, on the Zubby front, things are not going well.

Today, when I got home from the gym, I physically carried him into the upstairs. He laid in my arms stiffly, his whole body a rigid protest over this blatant catnapping. I dropped him on my bed and then I pulled out The Secret Weapon. The one thing Zubby loves more than any other thing on the planet. The one thing he will never, ever be able to do for himself.

Oh yes, fiend that I am, I played The Cat Brush card. The minute he sees the brush, the cat begins to purr so loudly he practically vibrates. The second it touches his fur he drools. At the end of a vigourous brushing he has that "I hope it was as good for you as it was for me" look. I spent so much time on him this afternoon that he was a spent shell of a cat.

I know, it was devious of me to do this, but I figure all's fair in love and war.

When I walked downstairs after having my way with Zubby, the two new cats were both sleeping on their cushions. Until now, the sound of my footsteps has been enough to get the two of them to rocket to their feet and tear over to me, purring and trilling a joyous welcome.

Today? Well today I walked in and they barely raised their heads. Enid gave me a languid look that said, "Oh, you were gone?" The two of them then settled back to diligently work on that desperately needed 22 1/2 hours of daily sleep.

Yep, today was the day I received the first snubbing from the new cats. Clearly, they've settled in.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 376.63 miles (606.1 kilometers)
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers