Little Bart

I have a photo that I would very much like to post on this particular blog, but unfortunately won't be able too. It is of my cat, Bart a few years ago. He's in a tree in my front yard. The first tree he ever got to climb (they were inside cats remember). He climbed all the way to the top of the walnut tree where an empty bird's nest sat. So in the photo it looks like he might be thinking of getting into a little trouble with some baby birds (although no birdies were ever harmed). Its my favorite picture of Bart. Its the background of my home computer as a matter of fact. I've not had the heart to look at it just yet.

I lost my Bart this past Sunday. I'm not sure why. I mean, on some level I'm certain why it was. He was born with feline leukemia (he got it from his mother) and so his immune system was weak. About three weeks ago I noticed some small lumps under his skin and he was acting very lethargic. I know Bart isn't feeling well when he isn't constantly under my feet or in my lap wanting loved on. I took him to the vet and they couldn't decide what was wrong, other than his white blood cell count was a little high. So began three weeks of vet visits and eventually a solid week and a half of me feeding him baby food and chicken broth through an eyedropper because he stopped eating.

At the last vet visit (the Tuesday before he passed) he still wasn't feeling well, but he was better. He had gained weight and was more energetic and strong, but things got progressively worse from there.

I brought him home to Gray Hawk on Friday so I could keep an eye on him and because, I hoped, a little fresh air would do him good and stimulate his appetite. When we got home he was back to his old self for the first night. He still wasn't eating and he was still pretty puney acting, but he was loving on everyone like he usually does. He even got to go outside Saturday and walk around the yard a bit (no climbing trees though). Saturday night he took a turn for the worst and in my heart I knew what was happening.  I have had a steady supply of various critters as pets through the years...I know what death looks like.

Throughout the night and Sunday morning he couldn't keep anything down. He kept going to the bathroom and puking. He hid from me. He slept on my stomach for a little while Saturday night, but soon tired of that and just wanted to be left alone. By Sunday afternoon he had passed away.

What I'm most thankful for, is that he was home when he passed. Not in Richmond. Although he liked the apartment, it wasn't his home and he knew that. Home was always Nunn Road for him. A part of me believes that the reason he hang on for those three weeks is because he was waiting for me to bring him home. It seems logical to me anyway. Why else would he seem to be getting better, but within a day and a half of bringing him back to the homeplace, he passed away? Maybe its wishful thinking on my part that animals would be that smart, but I still choose to believe it. I've always been one to pay particular attention to things happening in nature and the behavior of animals, so I believe that is possible that Bart was indeed just waiting for a chance to come back to where he was raised so he could say goodbye to everyone he loved and be where he loved one last time. If people can do that, why not animals?

I'll miss Bart. Miss him terribly. I always said that my cat (Bart's sister), Poop, was "my" cat and Bart was "Dillon's cat", because Bart loved Dillon so very much. Dillon used to go get Bart from the little house my cats stayed in and sneak him over to Mom and Dad's so he could keep him in his bedroom and play with him. Back in the day, when I used to bath Bart and his siblings as kittens, Dillon would always get little wet Bart and wrap him up in a towel, take him to the bedroom, and let him sleep on his belly under the covers until he fell asleep. Bart has loved Dillon ever since. Sometimes I think Bart loved Dillon more than he loved me...and I was his Mother. :-)

Bart was in the litter of kittens I brought home from the dairy farm when their real mother abandoned them. I raised them from the time they were two weeks old. I fed them with bottles, bathed them, stimulated them to use the bathroom even, and when they were old enough I weened them and then raised them so that they "never wanted for anything" (as my Mom put it while she was comforting me after Bart's death). Last December (right before Christmas) I lost Poop to pnuemonia. All the kittens in that litter had feline leukemia, so Poop caught a cold and couldn't fight it off and she couldn't be made healthy with medicine, so I lost her first. In May, I lost Oliver to a spider bite. He wasn't a part of that litter, but I raised him with them from the time he was three months old. And now I've lost my Bart, right before Thanksgiving.

I have Emmie left. She was the runt of the litter. She has a BIG mouth and she likes to use it. She has chronic respitory problems but she survived the spider bite from this summer and she's survived multiple emergency trips to the vet for breathing problems and colds. She's a fighter. I feel sorry for Emmie. When I would let the cats outside to play on pretty days, if the other cats ran off to where she couldn't see them, she would let out panicked yells until I went to her so she could see she wasn't outside alone. Emmie does NOT like to be by herself. Emmie and Poop were great friends. They did everything together. They were as insync as to cat sisters could be. Oliver was Emmie's boyfriend (or at least that is what I called him). Oliver didn't like anybody, but he loved Emmie. They shared a bed and cuddled up next to each other every night. And after the other two were gone, Emmie and Bart were together and kept each other company. Luckily, I unintentionally ended up with a little kitten not long ago. Her name is Church and she thinks Emmie is her new Mommy. They cuddle together like Ollie and Emmie did, play together like Poop and Em, and Emmie won't be alone at the apartment now that Bart is gone. I'm thankful for that as well. I knew Emmie wouldn't like being my only furry child and although that wasn't my intention when Church came home with me (Bart was very much alive and well when I first brought Church home), I'm glad Church is there for Emmie all the same.

I told Mom after we buried Bart in my makeshift pet cemetery on a little hill beside my house, that it would do me good not to ever have another pet in my life. I can come across as being a bit mean and bitter. I'm standoffish on most things and sometimes I seem a bit heartless because I'm pretty blunt about things. However, for those that know me well enough, I'm terribly sensitive and easily heartbroken...especially when it comes to animals. When I was a tot, I watched "Where the Red Fern Grows" for the first time and cried and cried. People in the family still talk about that. Its a sad movie but I don't think anyone had seen a reaction quite so heartbreaking as mine up until that point. I cry when I read "Old Yeller" (which I do fairly often) or "The Yearling". And don't even get me started on when I went to the theater to watch "Marley & Me." That was a mistake and a half. I don't cry at movies. No matter how sad they are. Especially not in public. By the end of that movie I was wiping tears and snot off my chin from crying so hard. Maybe you aren't supposed to question God's intentions, but if there is one thing I get terribly frustrated at Him over, its the fact that He doesn't make it so that our animals get to live as long as us. Its unfair.

Regardless, I didn't want to let Bart pass away without a blog in his honor. I will miss him constantly being under my feet to the point I can't walk or get out my front door. I will miss him clawing my back trying to climb up it everytime I bend over. I will miss not being able to sit down without him climbing on my head and biting and clawing my hair (he was my little hairdresser). I will miss rubbing his belly and scratching under his chin. And I will miss him sleeping on my stomach at night. I'll even miss having to grab a ladder when he climbs too high in the trees, so I can get him safely down. He would never climb out of a tall tree unless I was under him with my arms out, telling him I would catch him if he would only get close enough for me to reach.

I am one heartbroken cat mom.

So here's to you, little Pumba Bart Fart Nunn (aka Barticus, Sir Barticus Farticus, & Bartikins), may you rest in peace and always know that your Mommy loved you.

Scarefest 2010

No blog can do justice to my love of Scarefest.

I consider this to be my first experience, although I was there last year. I don't really remember anything from 2009 though because the day before Scarefest, I was in an accident that totaled my beloved Cherry Darling and jumbled my already slightly stupid brain into such a tizzy that I was doped up on meds through the entire Scarefest of 2009. (I had to be lead around. Literally.)

So this year was my "first" year at Scarefest and I loved it!

I'm completely exhausted and pretty sure that I will be good and sick for my presentation Monday morning, but it was worth it.

I love how fans come dressed in zombie and monster getups and how folks will willingly take photos with you (although I didn't really get a lot because I was too busy looking at all the booths). I love the horror guests most of all, but those booths are the ones that fill up the fastest and I hate standing in line and waiting for anything.

I did stand in line for George Romero though. :-) How could I not?! The line backed all the way out the door and into the street, but I stood there anyway. There were DVDs for sale (movies he had written and/or directed), t-shirts, bags, and tons of posters. They were all high though. I settled for a poster of the original "Night of the Living Dead" and had him sign it for me. It says " April, Stay Scared. George Romero". He was due to pose for pictures later in the evening but those were another forty bucks, and I had decided to limit myself on what I would spend today, so I was a good girl and refrained from the photo op. Next time, George. Next time. I did get to shake his hand though. Twice! I could have pounced across the table for a hug, but I was afraid security would kick me out. So I held in my excitement as much as possible. He is my zombie king after all. What would you expect me to do?

We didn't get to visit any of the other celebrity booths because they had super long lines and super high prices for photos and autographs. Betty was sneakier than me though and managed a couple of photos of Danny Trejo (I'll post those as soon as I can), but otherwise no good celebrity shots from me. Maybe next year. Back to Mr. Trejo though...I was expecting this super tall massive man. For some reason, in all his movies he looks like one bad a$$ tall dude. In reality he's about 5 "6 at best. I almost swallowed my gum when he stood up. I thought he'd go at least an even six feet, but he wasn't much taller than me. Go figure.

We checked out booths, took some breaks from the festivities, and after several hours there (and too much money spent) we left and headed to Johnny Corrino's for some grub. This was my first time eating there...or so I thought. Apparently, that is where we ate last year, but I just don't remember. I also apparently got mad at Mom last year when we were there because she didn't get up quick enough to go to the bathroom with me (yes, I was so incapacitated that I needed help finding the bathroom). I am a cranky person when I feel bad. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Regardless, today was a good day. When I got back to the apartment for a brief pitstop to check on my cat, he actually got off the bed and ate some canned chicken, drank some water, and drank all the "juice" from the can of chicken and even wanted more. I was super pleased with this. The new kitten however (who is litter box trained mind you) decided to go into my bathroom and pee in the floor. She waited until I got there so I would for sure see her. She has a bit of an attitude I have discovered. I played in the floor with the cats, then took Mom to Wal-Mart, and now I'm back home in JC for the night.

No homework accomplished today and I'm abso-freakin-lutely KILLED but otherwise, it was a much more positive than negative day...and that makes me happy. :-)

Can't wait for Scarefest 2011!!!! (Oh, and the Supernatural convention next Spring in Nashville. I'll be there too! ;-) )

Halloween Party 2010

Well, here it is, early, early in the morning on October 17th and I am up writing about the events of October 16th. I have too. It was the Halloween Party!!!

I am worn out. Soooooo tired. Probably gonna be sick. But it was all worth it.

First, I want to take a moment to thank everyone who helped out. I can NOT do it without you all. It is a complete group effort. Kudos to everyone that came by, dressed up, brought their kids, brought some food and drinks and loads of candy. Thank you, Thank you, THANK YOU!!! I can not say that enough.

Today, before the party, was spent decorating, doing last minute supply runs, and getting my costume together. I wanted to be a zombie clown (to pay homage to "Zombieland"...plus, clowns just creep me out), but I couldn't find my clown outfit. :-( So I used a zombie outfit from a couple of years ago. Plus, it had been in storage and mice had chewed holes in it, which was great, because that just added to the zombie effect. lol.

By the time 6 p.m. rolled around, I was already tired, but I trudged onward and upward. When the partygoers were heading home around 9 p.m. I was ready to rest my aching feet and back.

The thing that always bothers me about the party is that I don't get to spend a lot of time socializing. I hope people understand that I'm not being a rude hostess, its just that my primary focus is on the kids. Six years ago (that's right, this is party number six) this party started as a smallish gathering of family and friends and was catered primarily to the children. Over the years, it has grown and grown. Tonight, there were people there that I had never met before and still do not know their names or even how they heard about the party. That's a good thing, I think. It means the party is sooooo good, that word is spreading rapidly. Everyone wants to come hang out on the old Homeplace for our little get-together.

Still...I wish I had time to visit with everyone. I feel like I only caught some people in passing. It makes me feel guilty. At the same time though, when the night comes to a close and I have kids (some of which I've never seen before) coming up to me and telling me "This was the best time ever!", "Can we do more stuff?!", "That was the scariest corn maze ever!" and "Can I come next year?", then it makes me feel like I've accomplished a lot. :-)

This year was the biggest party yet. We ran out of daylight hours, which I did not expect to happen. I started the party at six because I THOUGHT there would be plenty of time to do everything. I just didn't expect the crowd we had! So rather than play a lot of games (something we usually do), we only managed to play a few and the pinata was actually played after dark, which kinda stinks, because you can't really see all the candy. Plus I mighta overstuffed the pinata a bit and it fell pretty quickly. Still, as long as kids get candy I am sure they are pleased. :-)

Anyway, thanks to all those that could make it. Thanks to all those that helped out in any way at all. And especially, thanks to all the kids that came. It really is the children that always make it such a success. :-)

Fall Break 2010

This has been an interesting fall break from EKU. Let me fill you in on the various adventures I've had this year.

Friday: Well...yeah. We'll leave that one alone. We'll just say that I had a good time with my friends and family. Look forward to doing it again. Hopefully this time I won't catch Kayla germs in the process.

Saturday: Took Kayla to various places in Richmond to hunt for her keys (don't worry, she found them later) because she lost them Friday night. Felt like poop most of the day. No, not hung over. Just sickly. Again, I blame this on Kayla germs.

Once I made it home, I turned right around and headed down to Nashville to the Grand Ole Opry with my Dad. Saw three drag queens in a gas station bathroom. That was fun. :-) Saw Dolly at the Opry and she sang my favorite song. A song that reminds me of my family and our heritage. A song that reminds me to look at what is in the hearts of people and not their possessions. A song that will eventually end up being an inspiration for a new tattoo. I've always wanted "One is only poor only if they choose to be" tattooed on my arm. And no, I'm not talking actual poverty and economics. When I get the tattoo I will blog about what that lyric means to me.

Dad was not impressed with Nashvegas. Too many people. Too much traffic. But he said he was glad he went and I  know he thoroughly  enjoyed some of the performances, including Dolly's. We are big Dolly Parton fans in my family.

Sunday: Took my cats to the apartment. They traveled well, all things considered and seemed to like the apartment life quite well. Especially Emmie, whom I have always said was a "city kitty" anyway. I left them up there with intentions of going back Sunday night, but I discovered once I got back to Jackson County that my car was trying to run a little hot. I didn't want to risk the extra trip back to Richmond. So I didn't go back last night. I am going back tonight. I'm sure the cat children will be happy to see their mother.

Monday: This is technically my last day of fall break. I'm back to work tomorrow even if Eastern's students aren't back at school. Today I have done homework, packed stuff to move, and spent as much time outside as I can. I didn't get my car in to the mechanic like I had hoped, but I think it will be okay until Friday morning. I just need to play around under the hood myself to hold off a "vet" visit as long as I can (I call everything the vet these days, doctors, mechanics, etc.).

I didn't get to go to classes today due to being stuck in JC with a bum vehicle. I'm not attempting to drive to Lexington if my car is gonna overheat. And I've been sickly all day and bummed out (over various personal things). So Monday has sucked. As Monday sometimes does.

Anyway, that's my fall break. Hope all ya'll that have had or are currently on fall break are enjoying yourselves. Peace homies!

Free to Be You & Me

Today is National Coming Out Day and although I am not personally coming out, I wanted to take a minute to give a shout out to those that are or have in the past.

Attached to this blog is a link to the Wiki gods definition of what this day is and how it all started. I urge all ya'll to look into it further on your own time.

I am a Christian but I have never understood the Christian aversion to all things homosexual, bisexual, transgender, or the like. Mostly this is due to the fact Jesus Christ himself said that our most important commandment (other than loving God of course) was to love one another. Let's think about that a minute, shall we?

Love

One

Another

If every person in the world could love every other person, even just a tiny bit, then think about how great the world could be. I dislike a lot of people, but I love them just enough to let them be free to be who they are, even if I don't necessarily agree with their choices. My theory is, as long as you aren't hurting anyone else, then be who you want to be. Gay people aren't hurting anyone else. They are just people, living their lives, and loving those around them.

I've been told I'm too open minded. That I accept people too easily for who they are. Maybe that's true. It could be why I get my feelings hurt so easily or my heartbroken so much. But I don't intend to change who I am. The disappointment I get from time to time is just par for the course. My cousin Betty told me the other day, "I don't know how you do it. I don't know how you are able to make everyone around you feel so loved."

Its simple. Because Jesus told me too.

So, for National Coming Out Day, I want to say congratulations to those that have come out or are coming out. You have my support and solidarity. For those that are still struggling, be brave and stay strong. Things will work out for the best in the end, of that I am certain. For those of you that don't agree with the "homosexual lifestyle" (whatever you classify that to mean), then fine, believe however you want, but just remember that your words and actions affect people you may not even realize and that maybe, just maybe (okay, well...more than likely) someone you love is gay.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Coming_Out_Day

My Top 5 Reasons Ashlee is The Sh*t

I felt the need this morning to post another family blog. I've decided to make this one about my Cousin Ashlee.

I remember the day Ashlee was brought home from the hospital. I was four or five at the time...I can't remember which, but I do remember a little tiny baby snuggled up in blankets and laying in a wooden bassinet with her name on it. As time went on, Ashlee became one of my little family playmates. She was one of the original two that started calling me "Apie" as a matter of fact.

I used to go over to her Grandparents' house and we would play with her dolls or under the trees for hours and hours. We used to make some splendid mud pies together and I'm fairly certain I talked her into eating a few of them before the day was out. We also used to fight over who got to pick the Willow tree as her clubhouse and who had to stick with the pine tree. Little twirp always got the Willow tree. I'm still holding a grudge over that one.

Years have come and gone since then and for awhile Ashlee lived "a fur piece" (as we say back home) from me and I didn't get to see her that much, but she soon moved back down to Nunn Road where she belonged all along. Still...by that time I was off doing teenager things and then adult things and she was still working her way through the public school system back home. Its not that we weren't close, its that we were too busy with our own lives to spend a lot of time with each other. That changed when we became adults.

In case some of you aren't aware, I am fiercly protective over my family. I can pick on them, poke fun at them, and even gripe about them all that I want, but woe unto the other person that tries to do the same. Its just not happening. And Ashlee is one of those people I am extra protective over. I always have been, even as a kid.

Anyway, Ashlee decided to have me a Godchild not too long ago. I realize she may have had other motives influencing her decision to have a baby, but I refuse to believe it was for any other reason than to have ME a Godchild. I'm terribly tickled with this wee one. Especially now that she is getting big enough to have a little personality on her. And although she looks an awful lot like her Daddy, she has the personality of Ashlee.

Anyway, I have come to the conclusion that Ashlee is "The Sh*t" and if you don't believe me, then here is my top five reasons for this belief. There are lots more, don't get me wrong, but I wanted to limit it to five.

1. She Knows How to Handle Relationships:
     ~ This past weekend, Ashlee went to Tennessee with her Mom, her Cousin, her Grandma, and my Godchild. Ash left her husband at home. No, they aren't having marital trouble, Daniel (duh-hubby) was invited to attend, but he chose to stay behind. Too much estrogen on one trip perhaps? I don't know. Anyway, Daniel stayed at home. On his long weekend from his wife, his job consisted of cleaning the house. Which he did and did a dang fine job of it too. Even shampooed the carpet. Last night Daniel texted me and asked me if  I would bring him some food when I took my lunch from work. He informed me that he had been cleaning for three days straight, was tired, and when he reach into his pocket to get some dough to buy some food with, all he found was, "Half a pack of cigarettes and fifty cents." So I took him some food from Fazoli's. Later I found out that Daniel had access to the checkings account, so I can only assume he was just being lazy...errr...I mean, so very tired from all that cleaning. Anyway, I think Ashlee knows her stuff on relationships, I mean, she goes on vacation for a few days and leaves the man at home doing all the cleaning and doesn't even teach him out to use the checkings account so he can't spend all her money. Talk about a creative way to get his appreciation! ;-)

2. She Has My Back:
     ~ There are many ways I could list that showcase how she has my back, but here is one that kinda ties into number one on my list. Ashlee is protective of her kinfolk as well, especially her Apie. Back when I was having some difficulty (okay, a LOT of friggin' difficulty) with a former flame, Ashlee was there to show her support for me. She didn't blow smoke up my butt though. Oh no, not Ash. She was just blunt and honest about it all. When I would come to her house and spend long, hard nights crying and crying in her bed and asking, "Why can't he just be good to me? Why does he treat me like that and talk to me like that?", Ashlee would matter-of-factly point out, "Because he is a piece of sh*t." No ifs, ands, or buts about it. She calls 'em like she sees 'em. When I was finally free from that situation Ashlee informed me that she was tremendously happy to see that over with, because she had "hated him with a bloody passion" ever since my birthday...not that she liked him much before anyway. Friends are supportive in all kinds of ways. Some are there for you to cry on their shoulder, some are there to build your confidence or tell you everything will be okay, and then there are those like Ashlee, who will look you straight in the eye and say, "Screw him. He's a dumbass and you can do better. What did you ever see in him anyway?"

3. She Is A Good Mommy:
     ~ She is the best Mommy my Godbaby could hope for. You never see Bella anywhere but right in Ashlee's arms when they are together. In fact, this is so much the case that I was a little bit concerned that Bella would ever learn to sit up on her own because Ashlee never put her down. Gladly though, Bella is coming along just fine. It makes me glad that Ashlee decided to have me a Godbaby.

4. She Is The Ultimate Caregiver:
     ~ Ashlee is a nurse, a mommy, and a wife. She takes care of five puppies as well as her own little pup, Bella. She always tries to make everyone feel at home when/if she can. I can go over to her house any time and just help myself to the fridge, fart whenever I want, and pick my nose and she doesn't mind a bit. Now that is hospitality at its finest. But she really shines as a nurse. She always puts her patients first, even when she would really like to just slap their jaws. One night I got a call from her on her way home from work. She was telling me about a particularly difficult gentleman she had taken care of that day and how he had kept her on her toes all day with his demands. She said, "At one point I was thinking of telling him, 'This is a hospital, not a hotel Hilton'." I asked her what she said instead. "Nothing," she replied. "I just did what he asked until my shift was over and I got to pawn him off on some other poor nurse." It takes skill not to tell a butthole to shove it when you really, really want too.

5. She Is A BAMF:
     ~ If'n you don't know what "BAMF" stands for, then I'm not going to tell you here. Use your imagination. Regardless, she is just that. I have never seen her throw punches, but I'm fairly certain she could kick my arse and anyone else's that needed kicking at any given point. So certain am I of this, that I try to avoid getting on her bad side at all costs. I have seen her angry though and let me tell you, it is true what they say about the "quiet ones". You do need to look out for them. Ashlee has the ability (something I am currently trying to learn from her) to cut you in two with a flick of her tongue. She can tell you to go straight to hell and you will be more than happy to do it if it means getting away from her and her sharp words. Our cousin Kayla would be handy in a bar fight (something we want to do together at some point in the future), but Ashlee I'm sure could knock a biker bar patron down with only a stare. She is that bad ass.

Family Blog ~ H.D. Edition

Meet Hyatt. Sometimes called H.D. (which I like to think is short for "Heavy Duty" but really its not). There are a lot of wee little ones in my family that I could write about, but for today, I want to write about Hyatt.

Hyatt will soon be celebrating his third birthday. He's growing like a weed. He was the first in a series of wee ones in a long time. Well...maybe not the first, but he was the first that lives close by, in fact, he lives just up the road from me.

Hyatt likes to come down to the house and feed my chickens. He likes for his Aunt Ida to ride him on the four-wheeler while mimicing "Woody Woodpecker" and he likes to fight with me. No real fighting though...because he could easily kick my butt!

He likes "ludlows" too. He always wants a ludlow when he stops by the house, so we try to keep a steady supply for him. What is a ludlow, you ask? Well, that is what H.D. calls popcycles. From this day forward I promise to always call them ludlows though.

Hyatt also likes to call me "Apooh". In the beginning it sounded a bit like "Abu" but I can only assume he decided I no longer reminded him of the monkey in the "Aladin" cartoon, so he changed it to "Apooh". That's fine by me. I've been "Apie" for a great many years and as much as I love my Apie nickname, I can handle another nickname as well.

Hyatt is still pretty little, so its hard to write about all the things he's doing or what he intends to accomplish, but I wanted to add a little light hearted fun to my family blogs and introduce one of the younger set in my bloodline.

Did I mention he is the Karaoke King?

We put 'em to work young in the Nunn family.

The other day I ran into Hyatt and his Mom at the local dollar store. H.D. proceeded to try to scare me with a Halloween spider...then talked me into buying two of them (which our dog Rosie, promptly stole one of them from my bag when I got home, so I guess now that one is her's) and some suckers (but I gave the suckers back to him before I left). There is an advantage to having a kid like him around...he can always tell you what you need, even when you don't know you need it.

Apparently, Hyatt is a little upset with me for moving to Richmond. His Mom said he wants to come down the road and hunt for me and gets sad when he discovers that I'm no longer there. Rest assured though, I will eventually get some ludlows for my apartment and then he can come up and visit any time he likes and eat all the ludlows (and play with my cats) as much as he wants.

Heavy Duty is always welcome at Apooh's crib. :-)