And now, a picture of Max enjoying the cooler weather while wrapped in blankets and basking in front of a space heater.
Any time I’m home is like this now. If I’m not at school or some kind of music practice or church meeting, I’m watching recorded TV until 8, then getting ready for bed. I think I like this rut I’m in. 
Last night as I watched a little TV on the couch, Max was taking a nap beside me. He made a funny noise, so I looked over at him. He was dreaming. Hehe…
I got my camera out quickly and recorded it. He wakes up at the end.
Max has no self-regulation when it comes to food. At first I didn’t know it. I was used to cats that just ate a little bit and walked away, and when their food dish was empty, you just fill it up again. When I did that with Max, he ate and ate and ended up looking like he’d swallowed a bowling ball. Time for a diet!
I got him diet food, and put him on a restricted intake. He has slimmed down nicely, and things seem to be going well. But lately, he’s been more insistent as his feeding times approach. Last night around 7:30 he started meowing, and he cried almost incessantly until 8 when his food came out of the feeding robot. His food was gone within a minute.
So I’m wondering if he’s calorie deficient right now or something. He doesn’t look bony, but the pitiful crying when he’s hungry really tugs on the heart strings. So far, I haven’t given in to the pleas for food, but I’m wondering if a change in feeding schedule is called for. Right now, he gets one quarter cup of diet food three times a day. That’s right in line with the recommendations on the bag. Is more called for? Maybe I should consult with a vet…
Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day! Arrr! To celebrate the day, get your pirate name HERE. Today, you may call me Cap’n Hank Cutthroat.
I’ve been trying to address the piles of invisible junk around my house: You know, those places where stuff has been sitting around so long I don’t consciously notice it any more. In my kitchen, the problem is along the wall. Max’s food and water are there, and for some reason there is a stool there, and for some reason, I pile junk on the stool. It looks very messy. Last night I at least collected the dish towels and washed them. But for now, the stool is still there with a griddle on top of it. (The griddle was a pancake experiment.)
Also along the wall:
A cover panel I need to cut in half and attach to the cabinets under the microwave.
Folding chairs in case I need them for the firepit.
A box under the stool that Max sits in to do kitchen surveillance.
Max has been naughty recently: he jumped up on the counter to get at an empty container for lunchmeat. I was shocked to discover the container on the floor. I do not approve of Max being on the kitchen counter, and I have always thought that he never did it.
I think he might have used my kitchen stools to get up there, so I pushed them in tightly and put some stuff on them to keep him from using them. I also got out the sticker strips they sell to keep cats from scratching. They’re like giant, double-sided stickers that you can stick on the corner of the couch or on a bed or whatever. The stickiness confuses and dismays the cat, and it stops scratching whatever you stick it on. I only peeled off one side of the stickers and then laid them around the edges of the counter top.
When I got home, I saw my trap had sprung:
It had come from this area of the counter:
Max tried to act like nothing had happened, but I knew. And I think he knew I knew. And I knew he knew I knew. Bad Max.
