FuzzyButt Wants Some Blogtime.

Well, either that, or she's gnawing my ankles 'cause I forgot to shake the automatic feeder. For a gadget that's supposed to keep the catfood flowing, it jams up a lot. I think it needs an agitator, kind of like on a lawn fertilizer spreader. That way the kittykibble won't get backed up in the downspout.

I saw an interesting variety of catfood at the PetSmart the other day. It was food custom-designed for a Maine Coon Cat. Apparently, if the brand's marketing manager & copywriter are to be believed, Maine Coon Cats eat like hogs. (I could have told them that...) This food is designed in larger chunks to make them spend more time chewing and less time swallowing it whole. Judging from the assorted regurgitations Betsy Cat has left for me to discover, usually in bare feet, she does indeed swallow the current kibble whole, or at least with minimal chewing.

Nice idea, but the other four-footed resident known as Pookie Cat isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. I know I'd find her hiding under the bed, yowling in misery, with a huge lump of Maine Coon Kibble wedged in her jaws. I'd have to break out the leather welding gloves, the catcher's mask and a chainmail hauberk to remove it without her removing something vital from me.

Nope, nice idea, but we're gonna stick with the Iams Hairball Control formula kittykibble. They both seem to like it, and the hairballs have declined.

Here's Miss Betsy Cat, doing what she does best. She sure develops a serious case of bed-head! Or, in her case, bed-pelt!