Reason # 67 why Roxie scares me

When we received Marilyn's babies, China Doll and Randy--who is now known as
Master Philip or Fella for short--we knew we had to acclimate the family to a
new feeding structure, to the chagrin of the other spoiled darlings. The
Fella is a dignified, toothless gent who needs canned food, ordinarily given
the others as a treat to break the monotony of the four different kinds of
dry we serve them. And so we have an envy issue, not to mention a challenge
to the intellect of Roxie, our most devious little girl. She'd gotten onto
the counter a few days ago, got a can of Fancy Feast out of the bag, and went
to work. Louie was in the, um, reading room and heard a "ping...ping"
punctuated by abrupt trills. When he was through with his, um, book, he went
out to find Madame holding the can down with one paw, and picking at the
little ring-thing with the claws of the other.

Madame Roxie would do well with the CIA or Scotland Yard. She already is
dressed like James Bond out for a night in the baccarat room.

Blessed be,
Baha

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