around the neigborhood, and had either grown up or lived in Presque Isle , which is in Aroostook County (and if you’ve been taking careful notes, you’d remember that Aroostook County is potato country!). All he wanted was to know was where I’d gotten the bumper sticker. My name is Robyn, and I’m a spaz, thank you. So, the kitties are all kinds of confused today. Tubby is getting so huge that we really have no choice but to limit his food. Until today, we’ve kept their food bowl filled, and they’ve been able to eat whenever the mood struck them. We took the bottomless bowl away last night, and they seemed a little concerned. This morning, Fred fed them when he got up, and after about twenty minutes I went out and took away what was left. Spot, for one, started following me all over the house, and he never does that. I was afraid I’d get home from work and find that the cats had killed and eaten Fred and/or the spud. They were fine, although once I started dinner they were constantly underfoot. I finally fed them, and the only ones who acted like they were starving were the kitten and Spanky. Tubby and Mr. Fancypants turned their noses up at the cat food at first – I think they thought they were going to get some of what I was making for dinner – then gave in and deigned to eat the stuff. On a cat-related note, I have for some reason taken to calling the kitten "Miss Poopypants." I have no idea why this is, and as a result nicknames with "poopy" in them speak of affection to me. I’m continually restraining myself from greeting my sister with "Hey, Pooper!", or Fred with "Hey, Mr. Poops!" I suspect counseling may be in order.]]>