No. No one died. Yet.

Actually, at the risk of voodoo-super-jinxing the whole arrangement this time, everyone has now found his or her own little place in the apartment.

Beepers stays under the bed, only coming out at night to get batted like a badminton birdie or jumping up on the bed in the morning to drool on me. I forgot one of her other names was Spitty Kitty.

Otis-Otard-Tardo-Otardia has been voted MVP for the past two days. Googie lost points by trying to wear Beeper's butt as a hat in those last two days. Otis the Supertard has been spending quality time in his new *pLaYhOuSe* like a VERY GOOD BOY AGAIN.

Kitty Cat is growing on me. She played with my hair a little and then bit me. She likes nothing and no one except for one thing: my bamboo plant. She ate five leaves off during the night.

So I bought her a fresh catnip plant. She sniffed it, she licked it, she growled and then she drew her head back slightly and bashed her face right in the top of it like a three year-old with a birthday cake or a clown with a cream pie. I had to take it away from her only to find it this morning splayed in the middle of the carpet like the Central Park jogger.

Worth every penny.