Dear Diary, I knew it had to happen. Now that SaraSue is eating dry food our little inside group is getting less of the canned stuff. My human's been sneaking it outside and feeding it to that Calimom cat from the barn. Gees, Calimom isn't even nice to my human. When she goes outside to feed that crowd, Cali runs up to her and hisses. What kind of a greeting is that? I've never hissed at my person. Calimom gets special treatment. The food is put right into her mouth with a spoon. There's a ton of other cats that want canned food, too, but no, Calimom is the one who gets most of the can. And just because she's got a kitten in the barn.
It's really been a strange week as far as food goes. For 3 days my human put bowls of yellow colored milk outside. I managed to get some of it. Tasted a little funny. I saw her fixing the stuff. She used a big syringe, took some yellow gunk from a bottle and put it in the milk. The first day it was put out, we all fought to get it, but none of us were very anxious to have some the second or 3rd day. Hunger won out though, because she didn't put any dry food out like she usually does.
And 2 days ago, my human's man let Wild Winken Babbette in the house. That one's got me baffled. He's not been too fond of having any cats in the house. Babbette was looking a bit ill, but lots of the outside guys look sick off and on. She's been in for the last 2 days, staying in the mud room mostly, except when she comes into the kitchen to get food and water. And a bath. She got a bath today and so did SaraSue. They were none too happy about that. Then we all got new collars. It's enough to make a cat need extra nap time. So I'm off to get some much needed sleep. Thinking makes me so very tired.

Dear Diary, I was hoping the day would never come, but it has. Little SaraSue has started to eat dry food. I suppose if you're a cat, which she is, and you watch 5 other cats eat stuff day after day, which she did, you'd eventually figure out you could eat it too -- and she did.

Why should I care? That means the canned food is going to become scarce. At least she works well for a blanket. Warmth is important to me. SaraSue's a little heavier than blankets, but she is nice and warm.

Speaking of warm, that's just what Indi wasn't two days ago. She was laying out near the driveway, by the barn, cold as could be and stiff. Not a drop of warmth left in her. My human picked her up and placed her on top of the fire pile. To warm her up, I guess. I haven't seen Indi since then.

Dear Diary, I'm feeling very awake and verbal today.

Every time I see Winnie I'm amazed at how big he is. He's definitely more muscular than my dad. The two of them square off frequently, though my human steps between them when she can. That's Winnie, above, beefing up on cat food. The little cat above is Comfort. She lives on the deck. Comfort is the only offspring of J Bond's litter from this summer that lived. One can never know, but she looks like my dad. I guess I shouldn't call Comfort a her as I've never actually investigated her backside to determine sexuality. I'll have to check that out some day. Comfort mostly lives on the deck now. Used to live over by the most westerly edge of the property, close to the creek. It's a good thing Comfort has moved closer to the house now, or Comfort would have been gone forever.

Dear Diary, I knew it was going to happen. That little SaraSue has got herself a collar. The man came home with it one day. Now it's official--she's a house cat. She is kinda fun to play with sometimes. She doesn't hiss and growl at me like Morgan does. And she never eats a piece of dry food. Which means she's always pestering my human for canned food. Which means I get lots of canned food and don't have to sacrifice a bite of the dry. On the other hand, however, she's stolen my special sleeping place. And she's taken to kissing up to Osiris. I've never gotten extremely personal with Osiris, so it's not like she's taking my place there. But Osiris is highly honored in this household. Much more so than I am. He is, after all, the senior member of our group. He is respected. They don't respect me, though they love me. They consider me a beloved troubler. The dynamics are changing.