Nope, I need professional wrangling help here. They are obviously feeling perfectly fine. I’ll take them down to town on my lunch break.
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Hope it goes well taking them to the vet. For kittens like them (that are sometimes not so cooperative) can they do the stitches that don’t need to be removed? Seems like that might be easier on the kitties and you and the vet. 
We are back and destitched. Apparently, the dissolvable stitches aren’t quite as tough and must not get wet. I have a few water splashers, Solo as the worst but Psalm participates, so it’s a good thing they didn’t. Given the activity level of these, they thought they needed some extra insurance.
This picture cracks me up. This was this morning when I was ready to catch kittens and load them. It was over an hour since I tried to remove stitches, with petting in between, and I hadn’t even looked toward the carrier yet, so there were no clues. Just a psychic kitten. Mary is in the background looking suspicious while others all happily came up when I got out the string-on-a-stick. Nope, she wasn’t buying it, although she loves string-on-a-stick. I did finally catch her, but no lure would work. Had to resort to the simple if obvious chase and dive, and we had a few minutes of exercise there.
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That picture is funny and adorable. Mary knew something was up! 
Glad you got them destitched and back home. I’m envious of how clean your floors are! Even though I sweep my floors, I always have litter and other cat debris on the floor.
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The floors are a constant ongoing struggle. Also rather amusing; sweeping with Brio around is fun. Nobody likes the vacuum, though.
I just want to chime in, I’ve been enjoying reading through the entire ‘cats of the farm’ thread and previous. I don’t want to sound stalkerish! But, your cats are so happy and peaceful, it makes for a nice read! (or, as cats, not peaceful but simply Cats!)
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so I guess Mary is the smart one. Can’t fool her. In the wild she’d probably live the longest.
I went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of hot chocolate. Turned around, and I had an audience. Look, cats, you are not mis-treated.
(On the counter: Mystery. On the floor, closest: Atticus. Next row: Pharaoh, Solo, Pilgrim. Next row: Brio. On the carpet: Psalm and Mary)
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That’s hilarious! 
You are supposed to feed them BEFORE you make your hot chocolate.
Your furniture looks like mine. Covered in blankets to protect it from hair, claws, and puke.
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The three amigos. A lot bigger and healthier than they were at first. (And that is a catnip turkey leg.)
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Lucky little critters, that’s all I’ll say.
They do really look good. Great Job!
I realized this last week that Pilgrim seems like he has lost a bit of weight. He is a very large-framed cat but didn’t have extra to begin with; vet at last checkup called him perfectly fit. Energy good, acts absolutely like himself. Thinking back through lifestyle changes first thing, the biggest change recently is obviously the three orphaned kittens. Pilgrim likes the kittens, but they are rather demanding. They also are voracious, all three of them. They were too thin when they arrived, but they are in fine and growing shape now. But one of them at least is quite often at the food dish. The indoors have free choice, and it’s quite good quality, because Pharaoh is an allergic mess.
But Pilgrim has always been an epicure. In spite of his size, he is the least food oriented cat on the place. Always has been. He nibbles daintily at things, and he often at treat time holds back at his former resting spot, waiting for me to bring him one so he won’t have to eat it in competition. It occurred to me that maybe he simply isn’t eating as much because the competition has increased and it’s not worth pushing in.
So I decided first thing, before spending money on a vet, I’d try a few weeks of just more calories and see if that makes a difference. If it doesn’t, I’ll take him in, but he really does not seem to be feeling off in any way, just a little thinner. I picked up a few cans of wet food on my last errand run, and last night, we added the new meal of the day. I divided the can onto a large plate and a saucer, half to each. Gave everybody the large plate in the floor, which they attacked like vacuum cleaners, and then put Pilgrim on the counter with the saucer above it all. He was quite happy to eat that and did finish his half a can, but what really cracked me up was Mary.
With the entwining pride gobbling below, Mary was the first one to realize that Pilgrim was having a non-competition feast of his own above. She promptly left the big plate, jumped up into a chair, on the table, and over to the counter (the kittens can’t jump to the counter from the floor yet; they have to stage it), and advanced. I was there standing guard and told her no. She settled down pondering this in her characteristic pondering way. Looked from Pilgrim to everybody else. Pilgrim to everybody else. Debated. She was so funny sitting there thinking 90 to nothing, wheels visibly spinning. I did give her literally one bite at the end, when Pilgrim was about to leave it, because she stopped on one no and sat there two feet away without trying another assault. She wasn’t questioning my forbidding it; she was just trying to work out the reason for the differences in this system.
That cat is something. Pilgrim is, too.
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Mary is definitely a “gifted” kitten. She seems to think far ahead of the others.
Mystery. What a life! The peasants may approach the monarch. (Actually, Mystery is extremely snuggly, pleasant to all, and far from one of the more entitled cats of the farm. But this pose sure looked enthroned to me.)
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Seriously, if you don’t have one already I am going to send you a sign that says My house is set up for the comfort of my cats - if you don’t like that, leave.
I don’t have that sign, but my stepmother gave me this one a few years ago for my birthday. I love it.
A little earlier, I was putting up clean dishes while cooking breakfast. I picked up a plate, and the cats went into five-alarm alert. Two days they have gotten wet food, and in just two days, they have decided that there is one and only one proper use for a plate, and anything else isn’t fair. Little tyrants!
Here is Pilgrim getting his personal half a can last night with the entwining mob below getting their few bites each.
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Such a captive audience you have. Need to put those little brains to work somehow. Boy do they learn fast.
Atticus is my craft cat. He sits in my lap each evening for my 30 minutes of crafting/Alzheimer’s prevention. You can feel the intense focus, but he knows not to chase.
Here I’m feeding Pilgrim his personal half a can on the counter. He is nearly done, and everybody below with their few bites is already done, but they aren’t convinced yet. They are still investigating the plate for any overlooked tidbit. Sound effects provided by Brio.
All, that is, except Mary. She realizes that done is done and doesn’t continue hunting for imaginary final bites.
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Love your craft cat. He reminds me of my beloved Tessa (same coloration as Atticus) who would sit next to me on the pattern I was working from. She enjoyed watching the needle go in and out and would occasionally pat gently at the threads. Haven’t done much cross stitch since she passed away - just not as much fun without my assistant.
Love what you are working on.
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