Oliver's kitty

I've been calling Ollie by the name of Oliver more lately. I don't know when this happened. I think that it all started with his temper...and me having to sternly lower my voice a few notches, calling him Oliver when he's throwing fits. Either that, or looking through the miniboden catalog too much lately. I think they have at least 3 different 'Oliver' models this season!

Moving on. Last spring I searched the ENTIRE town, high and low, to find the proper stuffed kitty for Oliver's Easter basket. I did so on the insistence of Finn and Calvin, who though it was crucial that Ollie have his own kitty. He kept trying to swipe Calvin's orange kitty.

At first, Ollie did not seem too interested in his new tan kitty. He would hold it for a minute and then cast it aside. I don't think the bean-bag ratio of the kitty's intestines were sufficient. Now, orange kitty is blessed with the most amazing innards ever. Regardless, Finn and Calvin were determined that Ollie should love his kitty with the unconditional love they had for their kitties. Every time Ollie would take a nap, or go to bed at night without his kitty, the boys would patiently place the kitty at the door to Ollie's room, like such.

Months of this. I cannot tell you how many times I have happened upon the above scenario. I pretty much thought it was hopeless, but Finn and Calvin never lost faith.

And then around a month ago, John started to notice something. At bed time, Ollie would start to say "mau"...for his kitty. And it started happening more and more. Now it is a regular occurrence to see Ollie holding his little kitty, meowing away.

After feeding him his milk sippy each night, I tuck Ollie in with his kitty, and he gives me the biggest grin ever.

Of course, each morning, I see kitty recklessly strewn on the floor. I did not say he was the most natural of mothers, but he is definitely taking steps in the right direction.

And I think his brothers are awfully pleased with the progress of their trainee.