Help!

Several weeks back now, the husband, urged on by our ever present and loyal farm dogs incessant whining, rescued three kittens. Now mind you, he had to rip up a partially rotten porch slat that resided six inches above ground level to retrieve the trio.

Help!

We knew one of the barn cats had a new litter under the large two-tier wooden porch and were carefully watching their progress. Our elderly dog, Sam, had long ago learned to protect all of the approved farm animals. It is usual, when the coyote’s prowl, to find the rooster with chickens, the geese, and many of the younger felines huddling close together near the front door, Sam, stationed strategically to defend the unprotected 180° peripheral area around the house. So, when momma cat did not return and the babies started crying in distress from hunger, Sam took the responsibility to sound the alarm.

Help!

The husband answered the call. Making a long story short, one kitten survived his inexperienced bottle-feeding efforts. His name is Smokey. He is spoiled, loves shadow boxing and jumping in the refrigerator every time we open it.

Help!

I have found some success in storing only canned beverages on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. As long as boxes, full or empty, were residing on that shelf he would only place his two front paws on the ledge rather than totally jumping, with lightning speed onto the shelf. Our fear of shutting him in was solved, or so I thought.

Help!

He plays a good game of stealth and pounce, sometimes using these empty boxes as props, with a proclivity to the 12-pack beer-sized box. Even, using his dark grey appearance to camouflage himself, he will attempt to grab his prey, me, through the hand slots. A fascinating game for us all, until recently. Busch changed their packaging. The bright orange fall coloring has him excited beyond reason.

Help!

Today, after grocery shopping, while filling the refrigerator with all the new groceries, he jumped into the empty orange box, refusing to exit. A new strategy is now required, I think to myself. Okay, I carefully remove the box, still occupied by the mischievous Smokey.

Okay, the solutions ... change my brand of beer. Or, maybe, hmm...do you think I could talk the manufacturer into changing its packaging? On the other hand, has he learned to discern the capacity of the box?

Help!