This morning I woke to a sudden, sharp pain on the side of my nose. Fortunately, the arm I flung up completely missed Tim the Kitten. He had placed exactly one claw on the edge of my nostril. You can't tell me that cats don't have a sense of humor. How else to explain Tim the Kitten standing on my head and trying to eat my eyelashes as I lay on my side? Lacking thumbs, I suppose more elaborate practical jokes are beyond them. Which is good, since they'd probably kill me.

It's official: the rate at which these 5 kittens go eat food, and more importantly process it out the other end of the alimentary canal, has exceeded my abilities. I just can't feed them frequently enough or change litter fast enough. Not to mention that the number of kitties wanting pettins exceeds the number of available arms in the house. So, I'm thinking we'll be keeping Tim, which means I have to find homes for four more:
Rocky - Male, black with white socks; the most independent and adventerous one.
Flash and Dash - Males, sand colored with light orange stripes
Cream - Female, orange tabby. Probably the friendliest, although Flash and Dash both come pretty close. She's reserved for afoundobject.