Well, this furball will supply your “maximum daily requirement” to the best of its ability [which still isn’t great]. The claws aren’t big enough to do more that leave marks without actually breaking the skin.

OT: I changed your main entry to the dot org URI, so it should work where ever you are.

In the days in which I was confined to a wheelchair, a very young Lily was fascinated with playing with it, most often by dashing in from the side, into the area directly underneath the seat. Of course the wheelchair occupant can’t see a thing down there.

One time Lily got herself tangled in the wheels and screamed bloody murder for about a full minute while I tried to find a way of determining what I should do to disentangle her. (In those days, my simply standing up out of the chair was not an option.) Not too surprisingly with all that screaming, mama Esther showed up, menacing me with yowls and extended claws.

Ultimately, no one was hurt… my good fortune; I’m pretty sure I’d have had to find a new place to live if Lily had been injured.

Jams, the body is to rotund to do a back-arch, but it tried anyway. It should have been happy that I didn’t just roll it away with the toe of my shoe, but I wanted it well away from the doorway so my Mother didn’t roll over it with her walker.

Usually if you approach, the kittens zip away, but as a single kitten not yet weaned, ‘zipping’ is in the future. There was bristling, hissing, and claw extension, but they weren’t terribly effective against the “work gloves of Doom”.

OT, it’s Friday morning, 8 AM, and Blogger is still bloggered. I’m beginning to feel as if I am in hurricane mode, except that the rest of the ‘net works OK.