Dear Diary, My human sent two cats away yesterday. A woman who visits sometimes took our cat cage with Chucky and Maynard and drove off in her car. Today she brought the cage back without Chucky and Maynard. I don't suppose I'll ever see them again. I wonder why my human sent the cats away. I suppose if I eavesdrop on the humans' conversation I'll find out some day.

Anyway, we have some new pictures. The white cat with her nose in the camera is Lovey Bud. This is how she looks at night when she's bothering everyone and not going to sleep like she should. The other picture is me and my pals having a bite to eat. The little thing is SaraSue, who continues to encroach on my space in the house. Today I found her taking a nap on my human's bed. She's not supposed to be doing that. I thought the deal was she only got to come in for food and then had to leave right away. The orange cat is Osiris, the coolest cat in the world. Actually, he's part dog, part human and part cat. He can't make up his mind what he is most of the time. He's the only one of us that can sleep with Boris, the Siberian Husky that lives here. Guess I've never mentioned him before. Probably because he's a dog and of no consequence to me.

Dear Diary, I've more or less given up chasing Morgan. Don't know what changed, but sometimes I even sleep next to her now. Must be that my human didn't approve. My latest target is Bones, who belongs to the man-child. She's afraid of me, so I chase her. I've heard the story so many times about how that cat got her name. The human family is somewhat confused about exactly what year she was born. They think it couldn't have been the first summer they were here because that time period was spent refurbishing the buildings and property so they could get a loan to purchase. That meant new roofs on the house, the bunk house and the barn; tearing the front porch, which was falling apart, off the house; stripping paint from the house and repainting; replacing all the gutters on the house; replacing 4 windows; and probably a bunch of other stuff I haven't bothered to pay attention to. Basically, they sank every penny they had into this property when it still belonged to another person. Bones must have been born the second year they were here. The heat was oppressive that year. A sickness descended upon the farm that took the kittens into its grip. For a span of time my human was finding kitten corpses every day. She was totally unprepared for this emotional and psychological trauma. She estimated that at least 100 kittens died that summer. This is not a wealthy family that I live with. They scrimp to get by for the most part. My human's man was oblivious to the trauma this was causing his woman, being adament that money was simply not there to treat a feral colony of cats. There were many harsh words, leading to my human grabbing Bones and shaking the kitten in the man's face, screaming "This poor kitten is a bag of bones. It's going to die. How can we not do anything?" My human took one of the kittens to the vet despite her man's objections, using monies she earned indexing books. This visit led to her purchasing 50 vials of distemper medicine and syringes for administering the drug. She'd never given a shot in her life, but with the help of Melissa (her niece), she managed to administer the medicine to the cats they could catch. They had to somehow track which cats had been medicated, and that is when the naming began. A list was made with descriptions and names. Some of the kittens medicated still died, but the entire operation seemed to put an end to the disease's grip. The mostly gray kitten my human had wholeheartedly believed would die, was named Bones at that time, and some strong constitution in the kitten kept her alive, though she was indeed a skeleton draped in skin. So, I suppose I should feel sorry for her and admire her strength of will to live. But I can't seem to help myself. Whenever I see her, I just have to chase her. Such is life.

Dear Diary, I never should have mentioned the magical, mystical mama BC. She's been gone now for at least 2 weeks along with 3 of her kits. A little white fur ball with gray spots has been left behind, frightened and skittish and alone. No indication of what has happened to BC and her brood. I fear the worst (dinner by a wild animal) and hope the best (they've all moved to a new location). We'll never know. BC lived here all her life. Her mama birthed her in the cellar of the house and hid her there for 2 months. That's how she got her name -- BC, short for Basement Cat. She had to be physically extricated from the crawl space under the house. Never did take to humans. Lived on the outskirts near the creek bed as much as possible. Quite possible she moved the family across the creek and into the wheat fields to teach them how to hunt mice and not be reliant on humans. I stay closer to the house now when I go outside.

Well, here's my Lovey Bud bothering me in my secret hiding place. I found this warm and cozy place to sleep, a little risky with all the computer cords dangling around, but warm from the electrical outlets. Lovey Bud must live up to her name and love up to any living creature she can find. Unfortunately, she found me. A snarl here, a slap there and she was soon convinced this was not her spot and she was not welcome. Doesn't she know cats have a reputation for being loners?

Dear Diary, the men in the family were gone for several days, but they're back now. So glad! My human was getting cranky with me. Maybe she'll settle down now. I don't know what her problem has been. She actually snapped at me the other day when I braced my claws on her leg and stretched. I don't even get that cranky when Lovey Bud head butts me when I'm trying to get to sleep at night. Speaking of that, Lovey Bud's behavior at night is one of my pet peeves. She simply can't lay down when we go to bed. Morgan usually hides out somewhere and doesn't share my human's bed, but Osiris, Mellow and I have our spots and we settle down readily when Carol finally calls it a day. Not Lovey Bud. She kneads and kneads and paces and head butts whichever one of us happens to be in her line of site, flops down on her side, gets back up and starts all over again. Osiris leaves if Lovey starts up with him. I try to tolerate it, but if she continues to annoy me, I find a more suitable place to sleep, which means anywhere Lovey Bud isn't.