Do what you want to do...

The clowns all eat in the "cat room," the back room which, for a street cat, constitutes a five-star hotel.  They all have their designated places and sometimes, if they are particularly hungry, Imp, Tee or Scruff will already be in their places waiting for their bowls to arrive. Lupo seems to enjoy being underfoot, pretending he has no idea where to go and Percy waits for Tee to be positioned so he doesn't get smacked by her. 

Notte.....well, Notte is the youngest and still a "teenager."  She decided, several months ago, that no one was going to tell her when meal time was.  "I'll get there when I FEEL like it."  She usually waits until I am out of the room before she goes in, thinking I am unaware of what she is doing.  Miss Independent. 

The bowls are attached to the luxurious suites (cages) so they are slightly raised rather than resting on the bottom of the cage or shelf.  There are two bowls of fresh water always available, as well as two very large bowls out in the kitchen.  There are two double-decker hammocks as well as other cushioned shelves and multiple "bathrooms."  

*Scruffy hanging out in one of the hammocks

It is actually important that they have their special "spots" since several of them are on medications and I need to keep track of which bowl belongs to which cat. Out little system works out well, for the most part.

Four of the clowns have nighttime privileges and are allowed outside of their private suites while we sleep.  Three of them, however, actually prefer to be in their private "bedrooms" for the night.   We tried letting them all out and Percy got nervous, Zini found ways to get in trouble and Imp just was not interested at all, he likes his perch...well, he does have a view out the back window.  

These guys, like so many critters, are creatures of habit.  They get the morning zoomies and have a raucous old time before breakfast.  Later, they settle down (for the most part) and nap or gaze out the windows.  

In the evening, before "dinner" they get the zoomies again and for some reason, they all decide that it is time to hit the cat pans, one after another.  I suppose having regular meal times makes for regular bowel habits, but it is funny to watch them all march in there for the same purpose.

Once that's done, I distribute the evening food bowls. Imp and Zini are nearly always waiting and we close up their cage....excuse me, we close the bedroom door.

Percy is hungry all the time and loves to be snuggled in the hammock at night, so his bedroom door is closed, too.  

The others have their dinners but are free to roam the house.  That means, Tee and Scruff snuggle up in a chair or on the sofa and Lupo plops in my lap to make biscuits for a while until he decides to curl up in a soft spot somewhere, sometimes with Notte.

So, the other night, as per usual, after poop time it was meal time and everyone conformed except Notte, who doesn't want anyone to see her conforming because she doesn't get told what to do.  So there.  

 Little did we know that she was late for the bathroom march and while I was tucking Imp and Zini in for the night, she was in the pan in their cage.  She got locked in with them.

Neither one of us heard anything during the night, but in the morning the cage was trashed.  Cushions were pulled off shelves, food bowls were thrown about, the pan was out of position and no one could get into it.  A mess.  Imp had a look on his face of complete disdain.  Poor little guy, he probably didn't get much sleep!  

Needless to say, the following night, everyone was tired and more than willing to have their food and settle in for the night.  Even Miss Notte....stubborn as she is, followed the rest of the gang and allowed herself to be seen coming in for dinner.  Oh, the horror!

I wonder when the terrible teens will be over?

I think I'll go outside for a while...

 It was 10:30 am on a cold but sunny and clear Saturday morning.   The clowns were all fed and milling about, some of them playing, some seeking the warmth of a radiator, some getting ready to nap.

I was alone because Saturday is "market" day.  Vendors, mostly clothing, but also bed sheets and pillows, housewares, handbags, curtains and tablecloths, line the streets and cars are prohibited.  A delivery man was stuck outside the cancello...the beautiful brick portico at the mouth of the historical section where we live.  As a result, my husband was out taking a little hike to retrieve our package.

Since it was such a lovely day, I was looking out the back double door to the balcony and beyond and noticed the windows were getting a little sooty.  I got a paper towel and some window cleanser and did the insides.  Then I went outside on the balcony to clean the other side, which was where most of the grime was anyway.  The doors open in and were the tiniest bit "open" while I wiped away.  In the blink of an eye, Calzini slipped between the crack and my feet!!  

"Zini!!  Zini!!  Get back inside!"

He ran to the far end of the balcony, where there is a large balsam poplar and a lot of bird traffic.  He went under a chair.  Little bastard!!!!  

Naturally, the one who slipped out HAD to be the only freaking clown I cannot pick up.  After all this time he refuses to have anyone even try to pick him up.  He will come to you if he wants affection, he will schmooze between your ankles, he will even take a step or two onto my lap (but never more than that) but he will not, under any circumstances, be picked up.  

I was in a total panic. Thank goodness my husband wasn't home because he would have had a conniption and I would never hear the end of it.  

I went back inside and waited.  Some of the others came along, curious and concerned.  I shooed them away because I didn't want to try and get Zini inside and have yet another one slip out.

Did I mention that our house is ground level in the front, but the back and balcony are about 7 stories up?  Below us is a brick passeggiata (walkway.)  My heart was in my throat, hoping that the stupid cat wasn't stupid enough to take a leap. 

Every now and then I would see him...sticking his head out between the railing...helping himself to a little "salad" from the potted plants we have out there and having a good old time sniffing and looking around.  

I had some sliced turkey in the fridge, so I took out a small piece of that and every time he came near the door I opened it and spoke as calmly as I could and offered up the turkey.  "Yeah, that's nice, but...look!  There's a bird!"  And off he would go again, to the far end of the balcony and my heart would sink once again to my toes. 

As my stomach churned, I anticipated, with dread, my husband's return.  But the market became my salvation because during his stroll, he stopped for a coffee and ran into a couple of acquaintances he had not seen in a while, so several chats delayed his return.

It felt, of course, like an eternity.  After about twenty anxious minutes, however, the little numbskull was ready to come in from the cold.  One window still has some streaks on it and they are going to stay there. 

All's well that ends well, as they say.  Also, as far as my husband is concerned.....what you don't know can't hurt you (or me!)  It's a beautiful morning.