This morning, Brianna said, "There goes Blackie, drinking from the sink again. But sometimes, when you're moving and getting settled in a new house and have lots of boxes, that's what happens. That's just life when you move with four cats."
Yes, we are up to four cats. Probably against our better judgment, we managed to catch the little kitten that had begun using our old garage as his hotel and restaurant. It comes out and meows loudly to get your attention and wants you to talk to it, but if you take a step toward it, it runs off at full speed and hides. The few times we have actually caught it, it starts purring and then just kind of melts into ecstasy while we pet it. You'd think it would let you touch it the next time you see it, but no--the same routine continues. Very passive-aggressive little cat. The other cats are not too fond of it. We'd like to think they are playing chase and rough-housing a bit, but I don't know . . . Hopefully all of the cats will work up their nerve to go back to being mostly outdoor cats again soon.