Saturday, three of the kittens went for a ride. They came in to my contract attorney job with me, as the warehouse we laughingly call our "office" is somewhat more relaxed on the weekends. (Any actual employee of BigLawFirm is off at the beach, sitting under an umbrella with rum drinks in their hands, in preparation for a federal-court-imposed deadline of June 30 to produce a boatload of documents. But we are exhorted to work harder. Go figure.)
Just as with last year's kittens, the three chosen kitties were there to show off to prospective adopters how cute they were, to get some exercise in a room other than their current prison (aka my spare bedroom), and to gain exposure to people other than me, the better to socialize them. Not surprisingly, they were a big hit. Cute and furry and ready to play with anything that looked like a toy, how could they not be?
And just like any good kitten, they ran and played and ran and played until they conked out, and then went to sleep in a heap. And they stayed asleep for an hour or so.
Thus, they were good and rested for the ride home, where they serenaded me with their songs of woe of the terrors of being in a cat carrier.
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