Norwegian cats explained.

I haven't posted in so long because I admit to a fear of blogging. Bloggophobia. I'm afraid to blog. Even though nobody ever reads it here I am, I feel I am indelibly inking in some medium that exists in all of space and time that never ever goes away once it has happened. Maybe there's some kind of unifying prinicipal that everyone else has missed that I can think up now late at night with too much beer. What was I doing? oh yeah explaing my cats. Again.
I have five cats. One was abandoned when the people down the street moved, but knowing Golden Boy he had dumped them ages ago. He is the spitting image of a classic norwegian forest cat.
One has almost semalessly entered the position that Martha the old cat vacated shortly before Mona came to us. Mona is 20 years old, and her kidneys are crap but she is doing great once we put her on "junk" cat food. She was starving to death because she wouldn't eat kidney diet food. They hate that stuff big time.
So that's two.
Now them. Hvem? Hva? Them. I'll do this later. Such a long story.