By Rondo, bothered and bewildered.

Good morning, friends.  Just a week ago Mousie was musing on a snowy day.  Today we are looking at rain.   Yes, you heard me right.  RAIN! 

Here it is December 6th, a week later and the temperature is 11 degrees Celsius.  That's 52 degrees for those using the Fahrenheit  scale.   This is totally unacceptable for December in my books.  Especially since it is overcast and rainy.  At temperatures like that we should have windows open and sun puddles pouring into the living-room.  How else are we to get our Vitamin D levels up to acceptable levels?  

Etude:  Hey! Stop a minute, Rondo, my boy. Didn't you just hear the 10 AM weather forecast?   Temperature is dropping to below 0 Celsius (32 F) and rain changing to freezing rain, with slick, slippery roads for the evening commute.   

Well!!!  That's more like it.  Not the freezing stuff and slippery roads part, but  December ought to be cold and spent snuggling in warm beds, in front of a crackling fire enjoying hot apple cider and ginger cookies.

So what ought we to do on such a discombobulated day?  Well, I don't know about you but I'm going to go crawl into my fuzzy, though extremely small daytime cat bed.  Hint! Hint!  Grammy!!!!!!!!!!!!  Extremely SMALL!  GRAMMY??  Now, where did she go?

Then, after my nap I plan to make a list for the old GAL and at the top of the list:
1 LARGE, FLUFFY, SHEARLING-lined CAT BED heater included.   I think I might write it in GREEN ink and underline it in RED and BOLD the whole thing.   Yes, that's what I plan to do.  

I don't understand how Mousie can have a bed, NO, make that TWO beds that are big enough for three of her and I get a puny chipmunk-sized bed.   AND imagine how ETUDE must feel.  He's bigger than I - like 20% bigger than this handsome fellow (that's me!). His fluffbutt hangs out of all beds even one that is big enough for three Mousies.  Imagine him trying to fit into my skimpy bed?  In all situations the poor guy is bound to get a chill in his nether-regions.  In fact, if not careful those nether regions might freeze and drop off.  Horrors!   GRAMMY!  make that 2 Shearling-lined CAT BEDS.  1 Large and 1 Great Dane-sized for Etude.

Friends, I've decided to show how utterly deprived we are.... Warning, be prepared for the shocking photos below. 

Editor Comment:   As I post this for the vociferous complainant, let me clarify...  There are more cozy beds for kitties - even Great Dane-sized kitties - than you can imagine.   More shearling-lined toasty resting spots for them than for the one who pays the bills.  AND if that isn't enough there are heated SNUGGLE-SAFES and MAGIC BAGS warmed up and put into those beds morning and evening through each month with the letter R in it.

Comments are encouraged.  We love the humorous ones especially.  Hugs!

By Gentle Mouse, Indoor kitty and happy to be there.

Good morning, friends. 
Grammy and I woke yesterday morning to a pile of snow on the balcony and all the surfaces around us... rooftops, tree branches, shrubs and sidewalks.  The roads were wet but otherwise clear.  Not my favourite time of year.  Well, that made me think back to when I was a kitten with my mummy, Whiskers.

We were outdoor kitties.  Mummy said it wasn't by choice but I'd never known anything different.  I was born outdoors in late summer... but then soon after, the nights were getting cooler.  Suddenly they were downright cold.  Brrrr.  And we were always hungry and I was  scared.  Mummy was too but was brave and protected me.  Once winter set in we had to find shelter.  We searched and searched, then Mummy and I saw an open door to a garage.  Inside she scanned the space and found a spot where we could hide.  Still cold it was at least out of the wind and weather.   

One day a person saw us slipping in and out of the garage.  We were so hungry and were looking for food.  There was nothing but frozen grass.  Yuk!   Well, that person started putting food out for us and closed the door keeping us inside.  I wanted out but mummy said we were trapped.  We would hide until that lady was gone but oh, it was so nice to have food to eat.  Mummy and I snuggled together to keep warm.  This went on for days.  Then one afternoon a wire cage thingy appeared and there was food inside.  Mummy warned me not to go in but I was so hungry.  Then since I was going in mummy followed.  I guess she decided we should stay together. 

Trapped.  Oh silly me!  Sorry mummy.

Later that day someone came, picked up the wire cage and transferred us to a bigger cage with warm blankets inside, gave us more food.   It felt good to be warm and no-longer hungry.   Later a man came, picked up our cage and put it into a van.  I was so scared but Mummy cuddled with me and it was so warm inside that I fell asleep once the van began to purr.  It purred for a long time, moved, stopped, moved some more but I slept through it all.  Mummy stayed alert and made sure I was okay.

Eventually the van stopped, the tall man got out, took us into a building - Grammy's building, as it happened.  Well, when he set us down we were on a soft bed.  I was scared again... there was another person there and she smelt strange. That smell made me sneeze. The lady opened the carrier and I got really scared so I hid at the back of the cage where she couldn't reach me.  Mummy was soooooooooooo brave.  She peeked out, then jumped into the lady's arms, put her paws around her neck, purred and tickled her cheek with her whiskers.  And that's how Mummy got her name. 

Mummy told me later that she'd decided this was our new home and our new Mummy/Grammy. She liked that strange smell and said it smelt like a baby after a bath.   So, we were home.  It took a while before Grammy accepted that she would be a foster failure.  Silly Grammy.  

Oh and I became Gentle Mouse because I was a scaredy kitty but never hissed or spat... just squeaked and tried to scamper away when I was picked up. 

Imagine that!  A snowfall made those memories all come back.  Luckily the family are warm and inside ... the cow kitties, Grammy and me, Gentle Mousie.

Well, that's it for today.

 Sweetie and Mousie, loving sisters (sometimes)

Well, friends.  I, Sweetie, mentioned last week that the boys would be turning 10 years OLD, ANCIENT this month.  *giggles*  Well, it is only 2 days away... and Rondo and Etude will be over the hill.  That is.... if they can manage to get up that hill.

On a side note:  Those chubbos, Rondo and Etude, whom we love so dearly and just cannot resist teasing, have grown from 100 grams as newborns to their highest 7.7 kilograms and 8.2 kilograms respectively.  That is 80 times their birth weight, give or take  They have come down to a respectable 6 kilos for Rondo, and 7.25 for Etude over the past two years and we are very proud of their progress.  For those of you in pounds and ounces that is around 13 and 16 lbs.  Chubby, short-legged, cobby-bodied Etude has some to go but hey, he had further to go to begin with. 

Okay... so back to the birthday stuff.   Yes, the Over the Hill part.... remember?

So Wednesday, it will be 10 years since those balls of fluff were wee scraps of fur.  I  wasn't here at the time as I'm younger, but Mousie tells me they were noisy right from the getgo - squealing for momma's milk, and scrapping with each other for the tastiest nipple.  It was quite a battle at times.

*Mousie pipes in:  They were AWFUL little pipsqueaks! but then, so was Sweetie when she came along! *giggles*   Glad I was perfect.

Sweetie:  Hey! I suppose you were a quiet little squeaker!  Huh!  Doubt it! We're supposed to be on the same side, Remember?  Girls against the boys? 

So back to those boys....
Their poor momma.  They sure were hard on her.  Despite this she was a perfect, loving mom.  She bathed, nursed and disciplined them as needed.  Well, momma Fidelia  lived to tell the tale and has now 'escaped' to a good home as have the sibs - Musetta and Scherzo.  Grammy still keeps in touch occasionally with their families.

And the boys?  They can be sweet one moment, bullies, the next, and 'fraidy cats two seconds later.  And above all, they are ALWAYS HUNGRY - or so they lead Grammy to believe.  

Between the two of them they keep Grammy on her toes!  And that is quite a feet!  *get it - feat!  Oh, I'm just so on the ball today...*giggle* ... you know!  Ball of the foot?    Okay, I'll stop now.

Unfortunately, we cannot tell you what Wednesday will bring as Grammy is on hiatus at the moment but we hope there will be some kind of birthday bash - at least Cake and Ice Cream would be a good start.  In the meantime, here are the boys... over the years.

by Sweetie, blogger and chronicler of silly stuff

Good morning, Friends.  
We are back. At least, this week we are.  No telling what other weeks will bring. A lot has been going on around here but nothing much worth writing about except our wee Mousie. 

Yes, little Mousie, my big sister.  Let me clarify that.  Mousie is not bigger than me, in fact she's a little over half my size, but she's bigger in the sense that she is older than me.  Yes, she's ancient.  She will be 11 this year whereas I just turned 9. 

Now, as I was saying, little Mousie, my big sister has never lost her kittenish behaviours.   She curls up in her bed like a kitten and buries her nose in her paw.  OH!  So do I!  Oh, and she loves to cuddle.  Oops! So do I!  Oh yes, and she grooms herself all the time.  And so do I, but not as much as she.  *Giggles* I guess we are sort of alike.

But, most of all she loves to play with toys and with her tail.  I don't!  I chase intruders and sometimes Mousie and tease Rondo and Etude but I don't often play with toys.

Oh, and I've told you this before but I'm going tell you again... Mousie chases her tail and when she catches it she bites it AND SQUEALS because, as she says with a look of shock on her puss, "It hurts!"

Well, that's about all, except for this link of Mousie doing acrobatics and tail chasing AND a few photos of all of us, but mostly of our wee Gentle Mousie. Enjoy.  I'm off now to chase her around the condo.

Oh, oh, oh!  And before I forget... The bratty boys turn 10 this month.   Yep, can you believe it?  So, stay tuned for a birthday celebration of a sort....late next week.  *giggles*

By Etude & Rondo - the handsome birthday boys.

Tomorrow Rondo and I, Etude, turn 9 years old.  We thought we'd take a page from Seville's blogs.  9 years, or 3285 days, or 78,840 hours, 4,730,400 minutes EACH.  We won't go into minutes or seconds because we were all born at different times of the day.  

Now, that is a lot of hours to live with Grammy.  A lot!   So, we had to come up with strategies to do so.  For the first 18 months life was easy, full of fun and companions to play and sleep with.  We had a revolving door of other kitties - kittens, moms, bachelors - to cuddle with, play with, sleep with, get into trouble, oops change that to mischief with.   That's over 4700 hours that we pretty much ignored Grammy, did what we wanted leaving around 65,700 hours. 

65,700 hours of dealing with a Grammy who controls our food, yells at us for picking on the girls and gets upset when we scratch furniture and walls.  Thankfully, we have perfected the ignoring Grammy techniques.  What are those techniques, you ask?

Well, here goes:

Sleeping:  56,700 hours  We sleep as much as possible, on beds, on chairs, in Whiskers' marshmallow, under the duvet tent, in the closet, all kinds of places... every single one of which is totally soft, warm, and comfortable.   That still leaves us with  9,000 hours.

'Playing' with the Girls' Necks: 900   Not that many when you calculate it over our lifetime.  Of course, Grammy says even 1 hour biting girls' necks in a lifetime is too many but hey, we have to entertain ourselves somehow. And when you break it down further that's only 300 hours for each girl over 9 years... only about 5 minutes a day.  Not so bad in our estimation.  That means they each have 23 hours 55 minutes of peace every day.  We'd work out some of those bitey necks on Grammy but she is bigger than us and controls our food.    And speaking of food...

Eating:  6,300   You know that Grammy gives us a lot of flack for being chubby boys, but truly...   Look at the numbers.  That's less than an hour a day when broken down over the years.  AND the old girl monitors our food so even if you did think it is a lot, the food doled out is minimal, minuscule and paltry.  She practically starves us.  We are wasting away.

Cuddling Grammy:  1600  (Well, we cannot ignore her completely.  Don't want her to think we don't appreciate her!) When you look at the stats you can see we are cuddle deprived.  Yes, we get less cuddle time than each of the girls get bitey-neck time.  That isn't much... and we think we deserve MUCH MUCH MORE! 

Of course, we would be more demanding of Grammy's time if we weren't so darned considerate.  We have to leave Grammy periods in the day for herself to do the dishes, clean the condo, pay the bills, make our meals, supervise the girls' meals (and they take a lot of supervising) and knit.

Now, if you've been calculating as we go you'll notice there is a discrepancy here of 200 hours... and those are VERY, VERY IMPORTANT.  Those are our birthday hours.  Yes, every year we get just 24 hours to celebrate our birthdays and we have to make the most of them.    

AND  in case you hadn't heard...TOMORROW is our 9th Birthday!  Yahoo! 

Grammy put together a slide show for us but something happened and it won't let her edit it to add, remove and reorder some of the photos..  We apologize that it is too long.

Comments are welcomed.

 by Mousie, Chronicler of M&M Central...

Hello, dear friends.  Here we are.... a day late but we hope you will think it is worth the wait.  As you know we did not publish a post last week and we were having challenges doing so this week too. The old brains are atrophied with all this staying home stuff.  BUT, finally this morning a miracle happened. 

Grammy was getting snail mail ready to go and had to prepare a package so she waddled... yes, I said waddled, over to the desk, picked out the box holding her labels and SURPRISE SURPRISE!  Inside that box was her Camera!  No, not the phone, not the iPad... her KODAK camera.  And inside that camera - along with two very corroded batteries was an old SD card.  Imagine that! 

We aren't sure if the Camera will survive the corrosion but the SD card seemed to be intact.   And so, we all gathered around Grammy's laptop, popped in the SD card and hoped for the best.  Wohoo!  There they were - over 500 photos and a number of videos... all from 2011 and 2012... the years when we were all youngsters and new fosters at M&M Central. 

So we put Grammy to work to create a video slideshow for you.  We hope you enjoy it.  

Things to take note of as you watch it ...
1. I, Mousie, have never weighed more than 8 lbs and most often was in the 7 - 7.5 lb. range in these photos.
2. Mummy Whiskers was a chubby butt... not like now where she weighs  no more than 9 lbs.
3. The boys were only 11 months old when Sweetie arrived. Sweetie was 5-6 weeks old.  Fidelia, their mummy had already been adopted by a friend of Grammy.
4. Sweetie arrived with a broken leg - that couldn't be put in a cast... thus the need to be confined while it healed.
5. Grammy did physiotherapy on the leg almost every day.. to keep it limber and to strengthen it.
6. Those boys were slim-jims.  They were smaller than me, Mousie.  Hard to imagine, I know.
7. I looked gigantic beside the boys and Sweetie.
8. It took a couple of years for Sweetie to grow into her ears.  Until then they looked like sails.  *giggles*
9. The boys, Whiskers and I were terrified of her when she first arrived.  She screeched like a Kestrel whenever she wanted out of the cage and that was more often than not.
10. AND Grammy fell in love with the little mischief... thus the gazillion photos of her.
11. Sweetie still nuzzles Grammy's robe whenever she needs some loving and cuddles.  Those two are bonded (kinda like Whiskers and me).
And last but not least.
12. Grammy had no intention of allowing her to be adopted by anyone but us and well, I guess it worked out okay.  We love her, sorta! 

To enjoy the show click here...  M&M Fostering 2011 - 2012
Comments would be most welcome.  We especially love to hear from our readers.

by Sweetie, reporter of mischief and mayhem and tattletale.

Good morning, Friends.

Well, do I have a tale to tell!  Yes, I do.

Grammy has been scratching her head lately.  No, she doesn't have bugs.  She's puzzled.  She doesn't understand how after washing clothes and hanging them on the mobile rack to dry they end up with smatterings of fur on them.... and especially on the navy tees she wears as a volunteer at the hospital. As you know fur really shows on navy.  Especially white or pale grey fur.  Well, so does the black and brown but those whites and pale greys are very noticeable.  Yes they are!  Not only that but there's another puzzler.  Grammy noticed the latch that secures the rack from collapsing has been bent close to breaking point.  How can this be? 

Well, the other evening the old dear was stretched out on the sofa resting her aching self watching television when she heard a scrambling sound.  She looked around. Nothing!  Then she looked up! There about 3 feet above eye level was MOUSIE, our timid wee Mousie had climbed to the top of the drying rack.  She was balanced on the rods like a monkey on a branch.  Where?  Right in the middle of Grammy's navy tee.  Yes, can you believe it?  Can you? Let me tell you, you can.  I've seen her do this a couple of times.  *giggles*  What a little monkey!   Yes, Mousie is the Monkey!

Well, Grammy shouldn't be surprised because she's caught Mousie in various places she has no business being.... like on the window ledges when the windows are opened wide and at the top of the screen of the balcony door.  What's she doing up there, you ask?  I'll tell you!  Chasing flit-flies, no less.  You know... those little beasties that are attracted to light on a summer's eve.  I tried that once and tore a couple of holes in the screening. Grammy was not amused but we all were delighted.  Now those wee beasties could get inside and we could ALL chase them around the condo.  Such fun!

Of course, the other reason Grammy was not amused by my antics was this.  I'm not a feather-weight like our wee Mousie. She leaps straight up, grips with her needle-like claws to the mesh and hones in on the little flittery beasts in hopes one day she'll catch them.  I imagine if she had a prehensile tail she'd be swinging from the blinds in attempts to attain her target beasties - aka - protein 1 milicalorie at a time.  But Grammy put an end to that fun game after she caught me.   I guess I'm too heavy for the screening.  She had to dispose of the beasties and then mend the screen.  She can be such a spoil sport.  But then, I guess we understand.  Don't like it, but do get it.  It was a brand new screen installed only days before.  Ooops!

Mousie thinks nothing of racing to the top of the kitty condo and perching there like Snoopy in vulture mode.  Now, I must say I can climb too.  I love the kitty condo for that but even better is (and don't tell Grammy how I do it) to race across the livingroom floor, leap to the back of the arm chair then springboard to the top of the book case.   I loved to hide in Grammy's knitting basket and scare her.  She'd search for me everywhere and think somehow I had gotten out and then panic and hyperventilate.  Oh, it was so much fun to watch her.  *giggles*  But there I'd be crouched above her eye level on the bookcase hidden in plain sight.  If only she'd look up she'd see my ears peeking over the edge of the basket.  Such a fun game that was.  

You might ask why is the knitting basket kept up there!  Why, of course, to keep us from destroying it.  *giggles*

Grammy quickly put an end to that unfortunately.  The spoilsport bought plastic bins, filled them with her stash of yarns and claimed the space between bookcases and ceiling with those self-same bins.  Party-Pooper, Grammy! 

Well, I guess we'll have to put our heads together and find new mischief for tormenting Grammy.  Never a dull moment around Mischief and Mayhem Central. Oh no!  I guess that means both Mousie AND I are the monkeys.  Oops!  Open mouth change paws.

​By Whiskers, Matriarch of Mischief and Mother of Mousie

This week we are sharing a few of our favourite photo collages... while Grammy is taking a break to knit frenetically.  She finished a toddler sweater... thought it would fit a 2 year old.  Nope!  More like a 12 - 18 month size.  Now she's working on one for a girl about the same size... possibly 18 - 24 months.  The old girl needs a size chart to work from.  I tell you.... we have to get her organized and it isn't easy. You may like to visit her knitting page to see what she's been up to. 

Meantime, here come the promised collages... and by the way... do you see the resemblance between that regal lion and me.  Yes, I may be a girl but still I think the likeness is pretty amazing.  So, I'll post 4 photos of how each of the others see themselves, as well as some others we think you'll enjoy.

Hope you can see the last batch of photos in the Gallery.... this is the first time we've used that format.  Click on them to see the full photo. Hover over them for captions. 

Enjoy.  Comments would be welcome as always.

by Whiskers, matriarch of mischief

Good morning, friends.  
I don't know what started me down this road but... Well, actually, I do.

Grammy and I were having a quiet chat and a china mug of Tazo's Wild Sweet Orange tea while the rest of the family napped. It was lovely and peaceful; soft classical music in the background, snow muffling the outdoor sounds, Grammy with heating pad at her back and me snuggled and purring in her lap one paw on her tummy, one balancing my teacup.

Yes, yes, I know... Sitting where I am I promise I'm being careful not to spill my hot brew in her lap.  That would not be clever and I'm a clever girl so... enough said. Oh, that's funny... me sitting in her lap lapping up my tea.  *giggles*  Okay, that was weak but then so was my tea.  Grammy makes it medium strength and I like it a wee bit stronger but she's the one with the opposable thumbs so I don't complain. On days when she's preoccupied and it sets longer I get it my way.   

Okay, I know I'm mind wandering here but remember we tend to do that in our 'middle years'.  What are middle years, you say?  Those times between being and raising little 'uns and becoming old timers.  A time when responsibilities ease up and we can just sit, relax and reflect on our lives, a time when we still have our faculties  before they become faulty or frail. 

As you know, Grammy was a foster mom and Mousie and I were her first fosters.  A long line of fosters came soon after... some older, some youngish and one in particular was very young, barely out of kitten-hood herself, skinny with a bulging belly.   Today we'll talk a bit about life around here with Miss Fidelia, her brood and the activities that we all got into while she was living here.

​Since this isn't something Grammy can dwell on let it be said that Grammy called the vet then they took a frantic taxi ride once she'd seen Fidelia's struggles and heard her screams of pain.

Trusting the cat-whisperer vet implicitly Grammy returned home to await the outcome.  It was an all-day struggle for mom and vet to get those babies out of such a wee girl alive.  Sadly, the first one was lost.  Later that evening Mom and four feisty, miniscule but scrappy, hungry balls of pending mischief were delivered and settled into the nursery.

Then began the adventure of a lifetime. Daily scraps over one teat.  Of course, the other seven milking stations were viable and on standby but all four floundered and fought for the same one.  Grammy intervened and moved them to other spigits but cries and flailing ensued as they fought their way back to the choicest meal. Eventually all got fed and once satisfied the former scrappers curled up together and napped until the next feeding when the feuding began once more.

Within a few days Etude, still blind for another week, was crawling up the blanket of the nest seeking out his as yet, invisible world.  To protect him Grammy placed pillows on the floor outside the nesting basket so when he flopped over the edge he'd be cushioned.  He and his sister, Musetta were intrepid explorers,  though blind, and otherwise helpless.  Determined, they were on the move.  Grammy got a workout keeping an eye on those two.

She imagined that was bad enough but once the eyes of all four  opened all H-e-double hockey sticks broke out.    Those scraps of fur were on the move.  The legs were wobbly but there was no stopping them.  Out of the nesting box, onto the pillows they flopped.  Then a scramble/flop/crawl to the bed where they dug in their wee claws and climbed the sheer cliff to view their new world.  

Such exhilaration.  All four would climb one behind the other then torpedo off the bed like flying squirrels. Unlike those fliers they would belly-flop onto more pillows that Grammy had fortuitously scattered around the bed.  Repeat and repeat once more before flopping into a comatose nap-heap.

And she thought this was chaotic … these continuous rounds of climb, fly, flop, scramble, repeat.  At least they were contained to the nursery room.  They were nothing compared to what was to follow.

For the next 5 months the household, Fidelia, Mousie and I withstood the onslaught … more fights over the teat of preference, wrestling matches in milked-down food saucers, tiny pawprints tracked throughout the condo, and marathons around the condo with scrambles up and over upholstery, across Grammy's softer bits. lap or occasionally through her hair if she got in the way. 

Fidelia tolerated their mischief well... giving them smacky-paws when necessary but otherwise left them to explore their new world.  Mousie and I retreated to our favourite shearling-lined chair (pre-Moth Day) out of the line of fire.  And Grammy was kept busy mopping floors, washing dishes, bathing food-caked kittens and herself, changing bedding in the nursery and doing the never-ending laundry. 

Just as suddenly as they arrived sister and brother pair, Musetta and Scherzo, were spayed/neutered and adopted together followed soon after by Fidelia.  All to good homes. Grammy has kept in touch with the 'purrents'  and all three are thriving, happy.  The household settled down into a less frenzied state of two mischievous boys, Mousie and me. But that was just the calm before the storm, so to speak.

Stay tuned next week for further musings.... 

Comments are always welcomed.  

by Sweetie, teller of mischievous tails and phantasmagorical ideas.

Our Aunty M. (yes, another Aunty M) posted an interesting photo on her page a few days ago and it got me thinking.  As you've read in our previous posts the boys are sometimes a little rough on Whiskers, Mouse and me. They like to pounce on our backs, clamp their jaws on our necks and hold us down for a while.  Now, you have to know, they don't usually hurt us as long as we remember to just stay still until they tire of the game. For that is what it is to them.

On the other hand sometimes we squeal or squirm to get away because it isn't a game to us and that makes them clamp down a little harder... and Grammy has to intervene.  That means the old girl has to set down her knitting, shift to the edge of the chair, propel herself up onto her feet, lumber over to us and separate the perpetrator from the perpetrated on.

Etude has perfected his timing and lets go just seconds before Grammy reaches for him and runs for cover snickering and giggling.  It has become a game for him. Another thing they both do is creep up behind us to sniff our butts.  If we ignore them they will nip our haunches so of course, we squeal to get Grammy's attention which means another knitting down/scooch to edge of chair/push up/lumber routine and more snickers from Etude.   Rondo on the other hand will release as soon as Grammy yells, 'Rondo!!!' with a shame-on-you voice. The yell elicits no reaction from Etude.  He prefers to see Grammy in motion. Those incidents where Rondo pounces are usually between the two boys though Etude has been known to return the favour as well.  They are both scamps.