As is always the case when one of the females is in heat and the males are acting up because of it, I'm tempted to kill all of them. Then I remember that I bottle fed them when their mother abandoned them and that they were once small enough to fit easily in the palm of my hand and they think I'm their mom.

The "pride behavior" thing can actually come in handy. Once I dropped a pan on my foot in the kitchen and said something like, "son of a ... that hurts". Between me swearing and the sound of the pan I'd dropped I didn't hear the cats come in. I turned around and there they were, looking, spitting, with one claw in the air to go after whoever had dared to throw something at me. One of those small golden moments. I guess they really would act as guard cats.

When the kittens attack my feet at night ("bedmice") is another one of those "kill them all" moments, but waking up in the morning with all of them lined up along one side of the bed, keeping me warm more than makes up for the infrequent bloody toe.

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