It has been brought to my attention that certain people feel I might have been somewhat paranoid and irrational to suggest my cats would conspire with Fraser to confirm my suspicions that motherhood has, in fact, destroyed my mind. After all, I provide that cats with food and shelter, and even occasionally with some attention, and what does Fraser do but rip their fur out and wipe slobber covered fingers on them?

I'll tell you what he does, he provides them with a vast new array of toys which they know they would never have laid their paws on unless Fraser had come into their lives. Case and point: here is Mr. Darcy enjoying his fabulous, reclining, vibrating cat bed complete with cat TV featuring nothing but fish and bubbles. And here is Brok enjoying his perfectly cat-sized pillow in the shape of a dog (Brok actually believes he is a dog, so here is proof for him that size does not determine species). Finally, witness Kennebec who knows damn well that he is a cat brushing up on his dog-recognition skills. (Okay, that last picture might have been a little staged...)

So there. Those of you who know my pets might be wondering where the picture of Casco enjoying Fraser's accouterments is. Such a picture does not exist. Casco remains horrified that we chose to bring Fraser into our home and the only Fraser-related pictures of Casco are the ones where Fraser is screaming his head off and Casco is sitting next to me giving me a look which clearly says "What on earth were you thinking?"

And, for those of you who might not be satisfied with pictures of my furry babies, here is Fraser enjoying his very first teething biscuit ever. He actually gnawed on it for some time before very effectively letting me know he was finished by hurling the biscuit to the floor where Dharma very thoughtfully finished it off for him. Oh yes. The cats may love Fraser for his toys, but the dogs are quickly learning to love him for the food he drops, throws, or barfs onto the floor.