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You'd think the cute kitten above is an angel but you'd be only half right. Odin has two personas: angel and devil, and only two speeds: sleeping and turbo-charged.

The motto this week: never a dull moment. Every day is an adventure with Odin, AKA The One-eyed Wonder AKA Odi Odi Macaroni AKA Pinky Pig. In just over two months, he's doubled his size and his capacity for mischief. He scales drapes or bookcases with the nimbleness of a mountain climber. Every week, it's a higher conquest. This week he toppled an 8-ft. high fake tree, played fetch, skidding on the floor with glee, broke a few figurines, knocked over an antique stone Buddha head to play soccer with, and escaped to the unfinished basement with Gris Gris only to return with a mask full of cobwebs and his white socks sooty. I try to be one step ahead in child or kitty proofing but both are impossibly clever. I try to keep the kitchen door closed especially when I'm cooking to prevent sauteed kitty, but he and Gris Gris sneak in every chance they get.

Odin and Gris Gris taking a brief pause while playing. "What shall we knock over next?"

Odin likes to go for walks snow or no snow.

This week Odin (the king of cuteness) trampled my windowsill box of fresh herbs, gamboled in the snow, won every wrestling match with both Merlin and Gris Gris (not at the same time), ate more than his share, dragged objects twice his weight from room to room, and slept nightly with the motor running full blast next to us. Us meaning hubby, three cats and moi.


His Royal Highness Merlin and loyal subject or should I say, HRH Prince Odin?

Merlin is enchanted with Odin's antics except when he suckles him like a momma cat. Merlin is less enchanted with me and I'm only allotted twenty minutes of snuggle time a day, if I'm lucky. Remember this is someone who has slept under the covers with me all night for sixteen years. Every day is different and I honor his wishes. He's happier than I've seen him in years, bossing his feline posse around, even though his vision is failing and climbing stairs requires more effort.

Gris Gris and Odin are now about the size and weight. I try feeding Gris Gris treats to fatten him up to no avail. He races around, leaping over furniture graceful as a gazelle, shoots up and down the stairs, plays with Odin full tilt. I still can't believe he's twelve years old and no one wanted to adopt him. Granted he's no snuggle puss, but he likes being petted briefly but frequently. All cats, even difficult cases make progress with love and patience. He's gone from sleeping in another room to our bedroom, to a stealthy inching closer and closer to us on top of the duvet.

Meanwhile, it's an another scenario for outdoor boy Domino. He misses hanging out with Merlin and spends most of his time his heated lair. When he sees Odin, he runs for the hills, terrified. I have no idea why. All things considered, Domino is doing well for an seven-year-old feral. He embodies the meaning of true grit.


 Earlier this week, on a warmish day I coaxed him out for a little play and think we're all dreaming of spring.