Well the time came and the last of the last year's babies went on long-overdue weaning. This was Crumpet, Crayola, and Jinxy. They were separated from their mothers and the mothers heaved a huge sigh of relief and immediately began stuffing themselves to try to make up for lost ground.
I thought there would be an Almighty Oregonian racket but there was hardly a peep among the weaners it was almost like they knew they had already had way too much milk. Anyway the weaners settled down together and as always happens a little society formed with Crumpet as the President and Jinxy as the Vice President and Crayola as the factotum.
Crayola is Crumpet's air mattress, and so at night time the President waits patiently while Crayola lies down first. Then when Crumpet has picked which side she wants to lie against, Jinxy goes around to the other side and plumps Crayola up a little and then she lies down. And then in the morning Crumpet gets up and then Jinxy. And finally Crayola the air mattress.
Then Crumpet and Crayola scuttle over to the feeder and jump in because that's where the food will be served and Jinxy scurries to a nearby spot in anticipation of the impending hay and grain. She is a little too fat to actually get in the feeder any more. Then they scarf their breakfast with alarming rapidity.
Then they catapult themselves outside for the day, where there is more food, and scarf their brunch with alarming rapidity. Then the same thing when the hay comes out in the middle of the day, then the same thing at night when they gallop on their little cat's feet back to the barn, where the feeders have been refilled. You should see them bellied up to the dish, it is quite a sight, throwing the food to their stomachs like golden retrievers.
Their motto is the same as North Carolina's, and if they had little license plates on their rear ends which they probably should, the license plates would say: The Weaner Society: First in Feedom.
Sic Semper Weaners.
