You ask why we’re wearing those plastic cones? We have absolutely no idea, but they certainly are inconvenient. They contstantly bang into things, sometimes even get caught, and seem to irritate our people when we press them against the backs of their legs trying to sniff. But they have to stay on all the time, even while we’re sleeping. Until Thursday, when the stitches come out. What stitches? Oh, about a half-dozen each. As we’re not currently in that state known as berserk, we have no recollection of the vicious fight we got into a week ago over prime sniffing rights through the porch rails to the kittens hidden in the bushes below.