Things are progressing... now all three of them think I am furniture:
Zoë is the stripey one, Mashka is the grey one, and Julius is the handsome orange man:
Here Zoë is trying to assert her authority over poor, 15-year-old Mashka, who has kidney failure and has lost her place at the top rung of catdom:
I shooed Zoë off to leave Mashka in peace to watch the birdies outside at the feeders.
And despite the fact that we bought the cats a FOUNTAIN specifically designed for them, with filtered, bottled water circulating through it, Julius and Zoë have decided that they prefer to drink out of the non-cat fountain in my office, which is filled with well water that is salty from softening and has been sitting for days. Figures. Here is Julius, caught in the act:
I will never understand cats. Never!