The girls have the run of the house from breakfast until mid-afternoon, and the boys have their freedom from mid-afternoon until breakfast. We have a couple of spare bedrooms since we have no children, so both the girls and the boys have their own private rooms with food, water, litter box, toys and bedding when they're not "free". (I've lived in places that weren't as nice and had incoming mortar and sniper fire too, but I've never coughed up a hair ball, so I guess life is tough all around.)

When we first started the shift change arrangement, there was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. The cats going "off-shift" and into their room would hide and run away and draw blood on the shift change coordinator (me). Cats are very clever, nothing is so hard to find as a cat that does not want to be found.

I finally resorted to the age-old technique that has worked since pre-history, that gets things done in every government and business and back alley in the world - bribery. If the boys go obediently to their room in the morning, they get their breakfast. If the girls go obediently to their room in the afternoon, they get their favorite yummy snack.

After all the years I spent in school, darn right I can outsmart a cat!

Here's a typical afternoon shift change in action.

This is Ms Annabelle. She's our senior cat and small but bossy. The boys don't like her because they think she's a feminist. She'll sit on your lap and be friendly, but if you pick her up, she'll slash anything she can reach with her razor sharp claws. (If you try to trim her claws, you'll get slashed and maybe bitten, but other than that, she's a real sweetie.)

I call Ms Annabelle the "guard cat" and I ask her to watch the house whenever I go out on an errand or whatever. She is the only cat I have ever known who growls and yaps like a dog and charges the door when someone steps on the porch.

She always seems to stay alert when I ask her to be the guard kitty, and then, when I get home she smiles and rolls on the floor to be tickled and petted and praised for doing such a good guarding job.

This is Chloe. She talks a lot. Most of it is boring gossip (I think). One day we had a deep discussion about the significance of talking with cats. I forget what her point was.

This is Phoebe, Chloe's sister. Phoebe "thinks outside the box". That doesn't mean that she's creative or imaginative. It means that she pees on the floor beside the litter box upstairs at least once every night. The vet says there's nothing physically wrong with her. We have a shower curtain liner on the floor under the box area and a "puppy pad" for her convenience.

The girls must always be herded to the stairs in the proper order. Phoebe, then Chloe, then Annabelle. If they approach the stairs in any other order, there will be chaos caused by bolters, refusals and the dreaded "run and hide" move.

Once they're on the stairs and moving, it's like herding the cows back to the barn for the evening, they meander along and go to their room and await their treats.

Annabelle is always the last one in, making sure that neither of the other girls got lost on the way.

After the girls are in their room, they get their treats, fresh water in their bowl, the litter box is cleaned, the puppy pad changed, if needed. Then, with their door safely closed, it's time to...

Let the boys out.

Happy and Leo are always anxious to get out of their room to freedom in the afternoon. They're usually waiting at the door and rush out as soon as it's opened. Happy is a very intelligent cat and noticed that doorknobs have some connection with opening closed doors. He jumps up and grabs the knob with his front paws, and swings there, kicking the paint off the door with his back claws. Thus you see the sheet of shredded cardboard hanging from the inside doorknob to protect the door.
 

Leo's first stop after getting out is always the kitchen where he cleans out the girl's leftover breakfast dishes.

Some cats are picky, finicky eaters who are hard to please. Leo is not one of those cats.

Happy is more into a high-fiber diet. He eats paper, card board, plastic, silk plants, almost anything except cat food.

Happy grew up thinking his name was "No Dammit". Lately he's been acting more like a "Happy" since the vet prescribed fish-flavored Prozac for him.