I had two cats of the "jump up on the counter, and play cat hockey* with whatever they found there" variety -- tooth brush, hair barrette, comb, whatever. Last month, I lost the one that lived to drink from the sink tap and who ate paper (he was 16), and the star cat hockey player on the team just a week ago (kidney failure). The one left is too durn fat to jump any higher than the ottoman or the sofa, and has to jump up from a foot stool to the night stand to make it up on the bed. He's going on a diet now that I don't have to feed hairball formula to everybody just because one of them really needed it.


*batting it lightly with the paw, push it gently to the edge and ---off onto the floor!