Yup, FF is here. On time. And on budget.

Actually, there isn’t much of a budget, since Feline Friday just piggybacks on my blog.

And those SD cards for storing images don’t cost too much in the first place, and can be reused for a long time.

So, really, collecting enough photos each week should be a slam dunk. Except it isn’t. Some weeks I’m lazy. Some weeks the light is bad in the house, at least during the hours I’m close to a camera. Some weeks the cats are squabbling. And sometime I just forget until I’m out of time and out of photo opps. Some weeks I’m wrapped up in trying to get a story ready for publication, and then when I’m finished, I’m not ready to concentrate on the cats.

One little cat gripe. When we were “negotiating” over Kinikini’s adoption with Charles in Aiea, he confided something.

“He’s kind of a biter,” he said. “But I just move out of the way when he tries to bite.”

Well, I have to say it was a truthful comment. He is a biter, and I’m the one he tends to bite.

Often he is seeking affection, but at some point I go past some invisible threshold and purring goes right to biting.

At other times biting is a demand to pay attention. I’ve noticed that when he starts pestering me around mealtimes, he’s more likely to bite. Usually it’s just a drive-by nip when passing by, just enough to break the skin and let a little bodily fluid flow. More a scratch than a bite.

But he’s noticed that I do move my hand/arms out of the way when he signals that a bite is coming, so he has a new target. My legs. They are bigger targets, and not as easily defended, especially if I’m sitting in front of my computer with legs in front of me under the table. Perfect for a Kinikini, “pay attention to what I’ve got to tell you…or else” moment. Not like a dog, where bared teeth and accompanying growling provide ample warning. This is silent running, when you don’t realize that you’re on the verge of being the target.

It’s a good example of asymmetrical warfare. I’m many times larger that this fine orange tabby, but he’s armed with sharp teeth, backed up by a fine set of sharper claws. And I have nothing in my arsenal to retaliate with except for…that squirt bottle. I bleed. He gets a little damp. It seems to me that this means he now has the power in our relationship.

It’s humbling to be put in my place like this. But hopefully we’ll work it out.

In any case, please enjoy this weeks bunch of cats.