I turned Bonnie and Max out into the big world today, after getting two gallons of milk from Bonnie's back quarters. Max hasn't gotten hungry enough yet to discover the two back teats, so I'm milking once a day to relieve the pressure on those quarters. Hurry up, Max. Grow. Get hungrier.
And there they go!
Since both my nearest neighbors have abandoned their homes, I have inherited a cat family. They've been fending for themselves for awhile, so perhaps they will catch some mice. They surely do love warm milk, but the kittens are wild, and impossible to photograph so far. Please do not leave comments telling me that cats aren't supposed to have milk. I know this is the rule, but I also know that farm cats survived for centuries on a diet of nothing but milk and mice. We had one old barn cat we called Mama Kitty who was given milk twice a day, every day, and lived to be over ten years old; she would have lived longer if a black lab from next door hadn't killed her.
I went to another family reunion yesterday. One relative (one of the several distant relatives whose identities remain a mystery to me) introduced a guest, a lady who is walking from Tuscon to Grand Rapids, Michigan. She left pretty shortly after dinner (a banquet fit for kings, a smorgasbord better than any money could buy), but before she left I managed to get the URL of her website and blog. She didn't seem anxious to converse, staying pretty much plugged into a computer she had on a strap that hung from her neck (seriously!).