Ancient kitty

The oldest of our kitties is White Kitty. He's 19. That is not a typo. He was 1 when my husband adopted him from Pet Refuge. Phil said he chose him because he was yowling so loud. He thought he'd been there for a long time. No so. His family had to give him up because of a child with allergies. White Kitty was originally christened "Mikey," but hubby didn't like it. By the time I came on the scene it was too late to rename him. He was used to being called White Kitty. He has arthritis in his spine and tail and is deaf as a post. He hollers loudly around the house and is constantly being startled and yelping when anyone "sneaks" up on him. I don't know if it's his age or arthritis, but he considers washing himself to to be optional. A few licks of his face or front paws is it. We take him to the vet to get bathed and groomed. I wouldn't dare try to bathe him. He can be dangerous. Once when I was combing him, he got so excited that he bit me in, shall we say a sensitive area, through my clothes and drew blood. No, let's not go there!

Pooka's been here 2 weeks today. It seems like he's always been here. Boo is starting to play with him. They've been chasing each other through the house for a couple of days now. This morning they ran under and over our bed about 5 am. The rugs are constantly messed up and there are toys everywhere. Pooka trots around a lot with a toy in his mouth. He's unearthed toys I haven't seen in years. I haven't a clue where he's finding them.

I'm still working on the turquoise merino. I've almost finished a bobbinful. It is slow and tedious spinning. I'll be glad when I can ply it. The second sock is started and a couple inches are finished. I may work on it more tonight.