KITTEN UPDATE: They're Not All Kittens

I've had requests for a kitten update. For some reason. Y'all don't know what you're in for. But here you are:
1. Dust:

Dust remains my fave. And remains a kitten. But remains my favorite by a slim margin due to her sister, Marianne. Explanation forthcoming. Dust is adorable, looks the most like an ewok, and started on hard cat food eons sooner than her litter mates. I could serve her steak tartare with a side of celery and Cookie Crisp and she'd dig right in. Easy child. No, I haven't cut off one of her back legs.
2. Marianne:

Marianne, as it turns out, is a bat. As is clearly evidenced above. But she's the most patient, kind, practical, mature, silent, and intelligent bat I've ever met. And therefore, all my friends EXCEPT PAUL MAJOR want to adopt her. She is going to have green eyes. Which Catherine Shaffner and Adam Dorland feel will make her even more attractive. She's reading "War & Peace" to me at bedtime.
3. Pearl:

I......honestly have no idea.
A bear? Definitely a belter. And definitely OUT OF HER MIND.
And this is how she looks AFTER a bath.
Not recommended.
4. Roland:

The only one who has the decency to pose for photo shoots. Adorable, Oreo cookies, all that. NOT BRIGHT. Still has to be fetched out of the bathroom ten minutes after his sisters have easily bounded their bumbling way to the food dish.  But so very dear. Loves lying on his back as I vigorously towel him dry. Extremely skilled at getting poop clods stuck to his butt hair. But then, this has inspired me to take up the hobby of kitty cat butt cuts. So that's going on the resume.
All in all so far, they are LOUD, GROSS, STRESSFUL, and worth it I think. It usually takes me about a year to get over the shock and horror of my last kitten rearing and decide again that it might be a good idea. But these are awfully sweet. And going away in four weeks. And helping me meet my neighbors. I'll never forget that today, while sitting on the side porch in the sunlight scrubbing Roland with my beach towel, a neighbor I knew I had because she never fails to make my bedroom closet smell like cigarette smoke, but whom I'd never seen, emerged onto her porch. I introduced myself. She said, "Nice to meet you too! I'm Clementine. No- Rose. Call me Rose."
So that's material for a whole other blog.