I live with the bipolar schizophrenic house-squirrel, and the sweet barn cat is the one who punched me in they eye...

Dice thinks it's fun to jump onto things.  So far that includes the top rail of the fence, Phoenix's back, and me.  Yesterday he aimed for my shoulder just as I turned my head and BOOMF he got me in the left eye.  Felt like he left a claw in there.

Ever since he launched himself onto Phoenix's back during a "parts of the horse" lesson, I realized I have to break the cat of this habit.  I just didn't get the retraining done on time, it turns out.

He's an adorable, fun, cute and friendly dude of a cat.  I treasure him.  I sat in the emergency room for two hours last night, thinking about how stupid it is that I had to cancel a lesson at an indoor arena last night because my super-lovey barn cat loves me so much he thought he should crawl right into the hood of my coat to get closer to me.

Meanwhile, Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, the fluffy mercurial crazy feline, who growls like the devil one second and then meows like a cute kitten the next, and has been very likely to move out of here for a few months now, has been all cuddly and sweet today.  She gently placed her paws on my shoulder during breakfast this morning.  I turned my head.  Her face was right beside my left eye.  She purred and nudged my cheek.

Cats are friggen weird, man.

Goodbye to Larry - he wasn't JUST a barn cat.

Guard cat Larry.  Trespassers will be caught and purred at.  

Our little buddy Larry has died.  He was badly hurt yesterday.  I usually can take care of injuries at home, but this looked like more than I could handle. The problem wasn't just severe wounds to his hind legs though.  His left hind leg was broken in several places as well as dislocated.  He was in a lot of pain and unable to walk.

We love our animals and don't want them to suffer.  The decision was made to euthanize him.  He very quietly died and was no longer in pain.

Many people who believe that cats should not be allowed to wander outside.  They have a point; it's a dangerous world out there.  Bigger animals can hurt them, which is probably what happened to Larry.  Cats can be hit by cars.  They can pick up diseases.

BUT.  Our barn cats have such a great life.  They are free to go where they please, and do what comes naturally to them.  They get to be cats.  They have a warm place to curl up in winter, sunshine in summer.  Trees to climb, rodents to catch.

Larry the kitten, 2008

Larry and Moe have had an exceptionally happy life because they get all the benefits of being free cats, but also healthy human contact.  Best of both worlds.  We make sure they have something to eat, rabies shots, and medical attention.  They have repaid us over and over with purring and companionship.  Very few barn cats can have a life like this.  My father couldn't afford to send cats to the vet back in the day, not when there were so many. That would have been ridiculous.

Soaking up the winter sun in some nice warm hay

I wish Larry hadn't come to the end of his life because he was hurt so badly, but in my opinion, it's the chance we take in exchange for everything he enjoyed.  And I'm just so grateful that we found him in time to give him a break from his pain and end his suffering.

Haven't we been lucky to have such wonderful cats to share our barn with?  They're not "JUST" barn cats.  They're our rodent control team, greeting committee, and good little friends.

The Brothers

Moe is okay.  Who knows whether he realizes his brother is gone.  So far he's hanging around in his usual napping spot, insisting on being petted whenever I'm in the barn.  He will have to soak up all the attention now!

Most recent picture of Larry and Moe, this summer.  

I will miss Larry very much.  We all will.  He'd walk across the yard to come get a pet, he joined us when we ate outside (and we persistently told him we wasn't welcome to actually eat with us) and I can't tell you how many times I taught a riding lesson with Larry sprawled across my arms.  He'd let me know when he was hurt and needed help.  He let me fix him up.  He insisted that I take time out of my day for a few slow minutes of cat time.

Moe will make sure I get my cat time.  As long as we have Moe, we will be smothered with friendly affection and loud purring. I'll have to check email in the barn so Moe can take over my lap and bump his little wet nose under my chin.  He'll take care of me and I'll take care of him.

Amateur Cat Vet

Larry gave up and settled the side of his face against my hand, and the gauze pad soaked with epsom salts.  He wasn't purring but he accepted my help. With my free hand I slowly rubbed under his chin as I whispered to him.  Good boy, good kitty.  We'll get you fixed up.  You'll be okay.  You're such a good patient.  What does the other guy look like, eh?

He looked a little puffy last night when I did the chores.  I saw a bit of blood on the side of his face,  a bloody streak on one ear, and a big tuft of loose hair on his back. "You've been scrapping, eh little dude?"  I gave him a quick check, didn't find anything gaping open or broken, and left him on his perch on the biggest saddle, where he licked his wounds.

This happens to barn cats.  When the snow melts, the feline wanderers set off looking for new girlfriends and trouble always follows them.  They fight.  They come away with some degree of damage.  Usually they get themselves over it.

Larry the Barn Cat

But this morning the whole side of his little cat face was swollen; his eye was almost closed.

Lucky for Larry, Heidi here has a whole cabinet full of first aid supplies in the tack room.  I poured some water into an old margarine tub, shook some epsom salts into it, gave it a stir with the tip of my finger and tucked three gauze pads into the pocket of my coveralls.  I set the water on one of the chairs over by the windows.  The cat, all curled in a ball, was lifted carefully and carried over to the windows.

He wasn't crazy about having his tattered ear bathed but he put up with it.  I didn't expect him to be okay with having his face messed with in his condition but I had to try.  Three times I dipped a pad into the salty water and held it to his swollen eye.  Each time he made a less feeble attempt to leave and each time I held him that way longer.  He sank into my hands like he was giving up.  I don't like it when cats act like they're giving up.  I dabbed at the corner of his eye and took some yuck away.  I held him away from me and got the best look at him I could without my glasses.  I could have convinced myself the swelling was down already.  I could see a tiny puncture mark on the bridge of his nose now.  And his eye was open more than it had been when I picked him up.

He's still got an eyeball.  That's good.

Doctoring done, he tried to wiggle away.  I ran my hand over his back.  Easy little yella fella.  Have a cuddle.  No need to run away, see, everything's fine.   I carried him over to the saddle rack, where I set him down like he was made out of glass.  That's when the purring started, a roar of gratitude.  I had to stand there for a few minutes while he turned himself around to get the maximum attention, rubbing the good side of his face against my chin, nibbling my fingertips, batting a paw on my cheek if I leaned away from him.

I rubbed the back of his neck one more time and left to clean up the barnyard.  When I came back to put away the wheelbarrow and forks, Larry was curled up again on the saddle, and his brother Moe had just jumped up to get comfy on the saddle in front.  He stepped right over Larry to get there.  Larry's ribs rose and fell as he snoozed.

Carlos the Barn Cat: it was nice knowing him...

 This cute black and white tom cat showed up last fall.  He just starting hanging around.  And a couple days ago, he was gone.  He didn't leave.  He appears to have simply laid down and died.

Well, I enjoyed him while he was here, and I think he had a pretty nice life for the last half a year.

When he first appeared, I regarded him like I do most strays: PEST.  Oh great, another stray cat.  Probably wild and vicious disease-riddled.  All scarred up from beating up on other cats.  I'd just gotten done dealing with an extremely nasty old tom with half and ear and a scarred up face and one withered up useless foreleg, who stared at me with contempt like he fully expected me to chase him down and kick the snot out of him.  Clearly he didn't know me.  At first, of course, the black and white cat fought with our two brothers, Larry and Moe.  I had to put a boot between them a few times.  Nobody is allowed to beat up on Larry and Moe.  Sorry, guy.  Eventually he was slinking up to the kibble bowl with just a few throaty growls.  And then he was just there.  I had three cats howling around my feet every evening, instead of two.

I name critters. It's a bad habit of mine.  Early on I decided he looked like a Carlos.  He had that little chin beard going on.  "He looks Mexican," I declared, which is silly, I know, because I don't even know anybody Mexican, how the heck would I know?  I just felt like if he were to speak English to me, he'd sound like Antonio Banderas!  

Handsome little devil, and very charming and affectionate. Right?

My friend Susan, excellent riding coach/ slick graphic designer,  pretty much read my mind.  YES this is what I see when I look at this cat!!!

So, we had Larry, Carlos, and Moe.

I had my suspicions about this cat.  He wasn't your typical stray.  He was not wild.  I don't know when it happened, but he was under my hands and under my feet and if I ever sat down, this cat was in my lap.  He didn't leave the barn like the brothers, which makes me think he'd been a failed house cat.  I figure when he turned from a cute kitten to a young tom cat, somebody didn't feel like spending the money having a vet do something about those little fuzzynuts, and took the cat for a little drive in the country.  After scrapping with a few unfriendly critters along the way, he ended up here.  Lucky guy. 

Carlos was a huge vet bill waiting to happen.  How many times did I wish I could bring him into the house, but first he'd need to be neutered, and he had a nasty sneezy snotty nose problem, he hwarfed up his dinner occasionally, and he seemed to have had a broken pelvis at some point.  

Barn cats aren't pets, even if they're tame.  It isn't always practical or realistic or even smart to spend hundreds of dollars on vet care for a cat that might up and leave in a couple weeks.  Or up and die.  I can't spend hundreds of dollars on a sick barn cat.  I have to pay for hay.  I have to buy winter boots for my teenage son.  I have to buy groceries.  Our barn cats are not typical, because they're neutered and they've been to the vet and get rabies shots.  Having only two of them makes a difference.  We do our best to keep them healthy but a lot of it is out of our control.  This is what I tell myself to make myself feel better.  That at least Carlos had a pretty happy life for the half a year he took up residence at the Ol Homestead.  

Well, Larry and Moe are happy and healthy, catching mice, eating cheap kibble, cuddling up on the saddle racks.  Lucy the Psychotic House Cat has been slightly less insane lately.  And for the last month or so, a massive shiny pure black cat has been slinking up to the kibble bowl... 

What the HECK Johnny! How much more can we take???!!!

He did it AGAIN.  He showed up at an award show gig on the stage unannounced playing guitar like a rockstar and I'm not there.

Okay I'm not mad.  And if I was I could never stay mad.


This gig wasn't with the pale strange creepy friend.  (I'm sure he's very interesting and cool in real life, right?  I mean, Johnny wouldn't hang around with boring/ nasty people, would he?)

This time he got on stage with THE BLACK KEYS for crying out loud!  The really awesome cool band that I took way too long to discover?  THEM.

Dude.  

If you live long enough to be a grown up, and you get very good at a thing that you can get paid to do, and you look for interesting people to get to know, you can do stuff like this.

Plus you could then call yourself an actor/writer/producer/musician/director.  

IF you feel it important to hang a title on yourself.

But seriously, he's been a pirate and a vampire and he's done the Native American thing, and he's a part time surprise rock star, but if he ever plays a cowboy I am finished.

The Cat is CRAZY

Lucy The Feral House-cat is not quite right in the head.

She lived in this house for like, a year before she discovered that the water jug has BUBBLES IN IT!

Since then, her life has been consumed by those evil bubbles.  She's gonna get them some day, even if it means she has to get right in there between the water cooler and the wall.  Maybe she'll climb into the jug through the taps.

Sure she looks all cute.  And furry and soft and cute. 

So CHARMING!  So ADORABLE!

Awwwwww!

But then...

You notice the One Eyed TWITCH.

Do NOT touch this cat when her eye is twitching.  

(Unless you didn't need that hand.)  

Within seconds of shredding you, she's suddenly all, "I'm so cute.  Oh look, a bug."

Did I mention that this cat caught a BAT? You know, flying mammal?  Flies all zigzaggy not straight like a bird?  Yeah.  One of those.  She caught it.

She can ignore you, while drawing you in... it's a real skill.  It's like flirting by excluding.

"Oh, I'm not noticing you.  But you notice me!"

"I'll just be over here sleeping adorably."

But.  With no warning, she'll be gone.  All that's left will be the frying smell of shorted out wiring and a few fluffs of tabby fur.

What is going on in that little head?

Maybe I don't want to know.

She's got me wrapped around her little needle-sharp claws.  Darnit.

How to dress up to go out to dinner

The handkerchief hanging out of the pocket is very practical and I don't know why we don't carry them around with us.  Kleenex has ruined us.  

Don't throw away an old hat just because it has a hole in it.  It's just getting comfy at that point.  Same with shirts.  A good plaid shirt should be worn until it's a rag with sleeves.  (Then you cut it into squares and stash it in a box intending to make a quilt out of it.)

Here's another hint: if you happen to be working as an actor and the role requires some makeup to create an effect of facial gnarliness, leave the face on after work.  Keeps people guessing as to why you're out and about all scraped up.  If you look particularly infectious you might even get to enjoy a meal undisturbed.  At the very least you can tell people they should see the other guy.

Most of all be sure to accessorize with a favourite gnarly indestructible legendary rock star.  Bonus points for matching hats and shades.  If your rock star has the guts to pull off bright turquoise sneakers you collectively are in my Style Hall Of Brilliance.

(But don't trust my judgement.  I'm in my jammies right now.)

If it gets too hot out for the Guard Pug, we have a backup plan.

Larry's armed and he's ready for action.  I'd advise you to stay the heck offa mah prawpity.  

He is not afraid to go paw-to-paw if he has to.  

Nobody's gettin' past Larry.  

Larry does not sleep.  He guards.

You have been warned.

Moe the Barn Cat is my HERO

Two weeks ago, he dragged his broken butt back to the farm and plunked himself down beside the south barn wall where we'd be sure to see him.  One emergency vet visit later, and twice daily doctorings by me, and he's up and at it!

He may be hobbling around on three legs, but he's leaving his little bed in the empty horse stall, sitting up on his own, and trying out his right hind to see how much weight he can put on it.  He has been the BEST patient I've ever worked on.  I've had to stuff pills down a cat's throat many times and he's the easiest ever.  He let me clean the wound on his leg, scrubbing the scabs off and all, without flinching or mewing.  Only in the last two days has he tried to pull his leg away; I take it as a good sign that he's gaining strength!  On Saturday evening he took off with his new strange gait before I had a chance to work on him.  By the time I let the horses out of the barn, he was out of sight.  

Just a couple days before that, I got Bucky to bring him out of the barn for some sunshine.

Soon after, he recovered enough to squeeze out from under the stall door and start wandering the barn aisle.  Oh my gosh, we're just so proud of him.  I think cats in general are pretty good at doing their own physiotherapy.  They get up and move when they feel strong enough to.  What really impresses me about this guy though, is his attitude.  He's totally agreeable.  

And has possibly the strongest will to live I've ever seen.

If a cat is close to death, he'll crawl away to a dark hidden corner and pass on.  Not Moe.  Call me sappy, crazy, sentimental, accuse me of anthropomorphizing this critter, but I am so sure he wanted us to find him and help him.  I am convinced he knew enough to let me scrub away at that ugly wound, that it was part of the healing process.  

There was a time when our barn housed up to 20 cats.  Some lived to adulthood, some didn't.  Sweetie and I tried to name them and tame them.  If they got a taste for fresh warm pork, they didn't stay.  We didn't buy kibble for them - they ate our leftovers.  They never got rabies shots and nobody got neutered or spayed.

Now with just Moe and his little brother Larry, the folks can afford a little better to spend some cash on them.  These two are superb barn cats.  They keep the varmints in check, and they always have time for a cuddle.  It still feels a little silly to spend vet money on a barn cat, but man, every time I look into Moe's beautiful eyes, I feel like he's worth every penny.

The Hick Chic Guide to Holding a Yard Sale

My first piece of advice would be, "Don't."  Like, you really just want to get rid of your stuff, right?  It's a long day in the sun for not much money.  But then I'm lazy and non-materialistic so maybe don't take my word for it.

Important:  Don't hold a yard sale in the country.  Few people driving by at 100kph will stop to see if you are selling anything they want.

Instead, have it at your sister's house!!  Sweetie lives on a nice crescent in town where about three other yard sales are going on.  Plus it's the big annual Mennonite Relief Sale and you're guaranteed at least five old order families stopping by with their wagons full of the spoils of their day.  (Honestly these folks scoop the bargains.)

If your sister happens to have a little feline visitor making regular stops in her garden, even better.

Doesn't matter who the cute little thing belongs to... she doesn't make disgusting piles in the flowerbeds or use Sweetie's deck as a scratching post so it's all okay!

Also useful: make the younguns run the sale.  Officially that is.  See, I stuck around to make sure all went well, but they were in charge of the cash.  They did all the greeting and smiling.  I sat in the shade and read a good book.  And petted somebody else's cat.  The upside is that the kids can use this cash for school trips and other things they need. Downside - not nearly enough.  

Annyong and Bucky were great though.  They didn't fight with each other and were very polite to anybody who wandered up, picked up a few things and shook them, then left.

(I can't believe we ended up with like, four boxes of books.  WHO DOESN'T WANT TO BUY BOOKS FOR NEXT TO NOTHING????  Geez, I took two books and two bibles home with me, and I was aiming to get rid of stuff! Books, people!)

Have enough supplies on hand for comfort.  Obviously you need tape and scissors and a marker and maybe some bags to send stuff home with people as well as water and snacks.  You also need sunscreen.  And hats.  And maybe bandannas to soak up the forehead sweat.  How about a deck of cards for those long stretches of boredom?  Not for me.  I don't get cards.  (It wasn't a Mennonite thing...)  

Speaking of which, I went down to the Sale to get some apple fritters.  Mmmmmm.  Also speaking of which, the old order families crack me up.  They have these homebuilt buggies with rubber tires, probably with pickup truck axles at each end of the buggy... they're loooong like cargo vans.  The team of horses are never all brushed up and groomed but incredibly fit.  The horses stop, a few people get off the buggy and come up to check out the goods.  The men wear straw hats, the women wear print dresses and amazing colourful bonnets.  My grandma made me one like that when I was a kid.  I was very un-Christian and coveted a bonnet like that.  I'd wear it.  I'm not kidding.  

When the last person is back on the buggy, the horses start walking.  They KNOW.  They know when everybody's accounted for.

By the end of the day, those buggies are FULL.  I mean, it's like the Beverley Hillbillies.  Not kidding.  Tables, blackboards, playpens, strollers, a box fan (clearly somebody's packin' some electricity at home) and the kitchen sink.  Seriously, one guy had a whole kitchen countertop including the double sink strapped to the side of the buggy.  The kids leaned their elbows on it.  

Also the seats are van seats.  AWESOME.  I would totally go parts chasin' in one of those buggies.  Lucky.  

But I am not a profesh yard sale haunter.  I'm even worse at holding one.  Anyways.  

So other than the above mentions suggestions, make the objects for sale look nice on the tables, make sure it's clean and blah blah blah.  

After twelve noon, everything's half price.  Auction the stuff if you have to, do two for one, whatever, just try to move the stuff.  

It's like this folks:  if we packrats don't want this stuff anymore, chances are nobody else does either.

Unless it's free.  We moved a few things out of the free box.

The kids each made about $20.  

As much as I would have liked to, I did not take the cute calico, with her half black tabby half orange tabby face, home with me.  

THIS WEEK IN HICK LIFE

I added "amateur cat vet" to my list of things I don't get paid to do

Moe is doing great!  He's always happy to see us when we check on him and he's trying to stand.  He's shaky and not putting any weight on the injured leg but it's a start.  The wound is closing but still uuuugly.  I am amazed at his tolerance and resilience.  This cat has the happiest attitude ever... and a heck of a will to live!

My kid turned 16

Still absorbing this... gimme another week ok?

Most of the farmers did the first cut of hay

Dude, it's MAY.  Way early.  But who cares man, this means it smells like hay everywhere and I looove that!

It was really hot this week. I sweated a lot.  Went through three changes of clothes in a day.

How unpleasant.  Here, have a nice picture of Johnny Depp to clear your mind.  He looks cooool.  Ignore the gun under his arm.  Maybe he's just happy to see us.

My horses got their tetanus shots this week.

And then the next day I got mine.  When I say I feel their pain, I mean it.  But they don't have to steer with their necks so I get to win the pity party.

Only went to the dump once this week.

And I came home with a nasty trucker tan on my left arm. This was before the tetanus shot, back when I could freely hang my arm out the window while zooming down the road with the ol' 60mph air-conditioning going, if you know what I mean.

American Idol is done, and so is Grumpy Uncle Simon, but Paula Abdul was back! to say all kinds of sweet things.

Awww.  She looked like a pink cupcake as her magical unicorn dust swirled through the air.  Actually I didn't see any of it, because...

I dragged my bestest friend to an author reading.

She is such a good sport, because she didn't know this author at all.  It was a great excuse for us to both get out in the evening, plus we both have a couple of anxiety issues, and we can face our fears together!!!  Also she didn't laugh at me for being completely starstruck to meet Guy Gavriel Kay.  

Afterwards we sat outside with her man and daughter and five bouncy little dogs.  OMG Biddie is like Sharon Osbourne with the little dogs!  I just thought of that now!  

It's nice to be living closer to her.  We still don't get to see each other much but it's better than before.  

There's this show called LOST which I decided after the first two episodes not to commit to because I didn't have enough time.

In January the kids and I gave in.  We figured it didn't matter if we didn't know what was going on because those who watched consistently didn't know either, it seemed.  We taped the finale so we could watch it together.  We're only halfway through.  See?

I found the nicest, most level place to put that pool we promised we'd get when we moved out to the country.

It's away from the road, not to close to trees that will fill the pool with leaves, and flat enough ground to avoid doing any grading.  Problems: can't shell out the $ for that inflatable pool right now (see above with the horses and cats and vets); not sure if we can run electrical for pool pump down there in the yard; not sure if solar powered pumps are available or if we can afford it; and we have this little technicality...

THIS is currently taking up pool space.  Anybody want a nice 80s vintage plow truck?  It's a 4x4!!!

Gaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh

Yeah I'm still here.

Working on the barn - pictures soon.  Maybe.

Not writing.  Want to, would like to, but any spare hour is often spent sitting on a couch watching something on TV that does not stimulate my brain in any way - and I like it.

My mom's taking a few weeks off work.  Did you know you have a little internal filtering organ called a gallbladder?  Well she doesn't anymore.  And soon she'll be much happier about it.  Until then, I take over all grocery shopping duties as well as all dish washing, cooking, and bathroom cleaning.  I continue with my laundry jobs.  She continues to instruct the universe from a position of relaxation, and continues to be amazing.

My dog is now full time foot warmer for Grandma.

I'm glad I'm here for her.

My ol' Man is 67 years old and might be close to admitting that he ain't 45 anymore.  Nobody believes him though. Will keep you posted.

Tribble wrote her Grade 10 english exam today.  Good thing she can read.  She doesn't have to go to school again until Friday, when she performs her Dance exam.  I fully intend to work her like a rented mule, hahahaha!  Good thing she likes the barn.

Bucky has to be at school at 7 am tomorrow for a field trip.  I will be getting up around 5:30 am, leaving the house with him at 6:30, returning home at 7, kicking the horses out of the barn with a half bale of hay, taking the Pug for a quick run in the melting snow, then going back to bed.  (Where Tribble will most likely be, taking up as much room as a 102 lb person can.)

Jethro got the floors in that house of ours sanded.  Looks gorgeous.  I think we should do that again soon in a house we intend to live in for many years.

There's a big grey and white tomcat hanging around the barn.  Larry and Moe kind of avoid him.  I figure if he's gonna hang around and eat our generic feed mill cat-kibble, he better tame up.  I can get almost 2 feet away from him, but he still looks at me like I'm a cat eating monster.  Maybe I should stop picking up Larry and telling him he's deliciously cute.

Lucy In The Sky With Ladybugs is still insane, stalks shadows, pounces on my feet in bed, thinks she's weightless and eats like a dog.  I suspect she might be a shapeshifter but she's so damn fast I can't catch her at it.  Hmmm.

Phoenix and the Little Lady both in need of hoof trimming.  I have neglected them.  I feel awful every time I look at their hooves, especially his.  I shouldn't even be posting this on the internet.  His hooves are all long and cracking and I must be a bad horse owner.  I had to choose between parasite control and hoof trimming.  Then I had to buy feed.  Then shavings to bed their stalls.  Then... my own children needed new pants.

I hate being broke.

I am working on getting work.

People I know are dealing with problems worse than mine.

That doesn't make me feel better.

I have a dream of wearing really expensive high quality overalls out to the barn.

I like having a radio out there.

I'll need a new corn broom soon.  This one's wearing down from sweeping all those miserable cobwebs. Will it ever end?

I miss Jethro.

My imaginary people talk to me while I'm working.  I hope they don't stop.  I'm listening.

I am behind on EVERYTHING.

I just remembered that my coveralls are still in the washing machine and I think I'd like them to be dry before I put them on to go back out to the barn.

I still have a huge amount of re-arranging to do before the last of our belongings will fit into this house.  I have nightmares about brown webs and cardboard boxes and garbage bags.

So, yeah, I'm just gonna mosey on down to the cellar and do some laundry.

I hope it doesn't take me a week.  Stay tuned.

Vicious, dangerous animal

We have invited a lethal hunter into our home. We brought her in willingly and knowingly. She is skilled, deadly accurate and nobody can defeat her. We are powerless.

I mean, she is just KILLING US here! I can hardly stand it! I feel weak! I am no match for her!

I saw her slam a fly with one jump. She held it down between her paws, worried it, and then munched it down. She is possibly one of the most acrobatic, graceful cats I've ever seen, and there have been a lot of cats in my life. I've seen her do a few moves I didn't think were possible. She might be defying physics.

Her most powerful weapon, though... is her irresistible cuteness.

Yep, I'm a goner. She's got me and she'll never let me out of her iron grip. I'm okay with that.