Our cats have a thing for bits of cheese. I’m not sure what kind of a thing it is, but it’s most definitely a thing.
On the subject, we went with George to her grandparents’ house with the intent of picking up some kittens and transplanting them on her fiancee’s farm. Mission: unsuccessful. We learned that they’re still exiting the nursing stage and without the mom it wouldn’t be a good idea to take them just yet. Ideally Mom would come too but she spent her time on top of some haybales observing us.
The plan now is to give them another week to become more self-sufficient and also to try to catch their mom in a live trap (not as bad as it sounds) so she can join them at the new location. We’ll see how it goes.
I’ve written this before but I am always amazed at the smallness of kittens. These must have only been about two months old, barely, because they’re hardly bigger than my hand and they still make their cute little mewing noises. It’s hard to imagine Maynard in all of his 18-pound glory ever having been that tiny.