Rumor has it many of you like the ongoing Tales of the Chicken. I aim to please.

The shop kittens are baffling sometimes.

On most mornings they rush inside when we open the door, jump onto the chair next to the fax machine, and begin to “self-serve” from the open bag of cat food. They continue to graze from the bag throughout the day.

Some mornings, though — including today — they bypass the bag of cat food and trot to the kitchen, hop onto the table, and rummage through the cafeteria supplies. What are they searching for? Cheetos. I have no idea why they like Cheetos so much, but these pigs eat more than the rest of our employees combined.

Today when I came into the office, I could hear them rummaging in the chips. When I went to the kitchen, they had ripped open two bags and were munching away. Cheeto fiends.

(In the afternoon, Max was sprawled on my desk sleeping. Nick had a bag of Cheetos. He snapped Max awake by laying a Cheeto on his paws.)

Meanwhile, another stray cat has appeared. It has long tortoise-shell fur and already has the kittens cowed. When Max or Duke gets too close, the new cat takes him down in a flurry of fur. She moves like lightning, wrestles the kitten for a second or two, then bolts away. The kittens are in a state of shock. Thus far in their young lives, they’ve only encountered benevolence.

The chicken, however, is nonplused, and the new cat ignores it. Yesterday the dumb bird was by the back door begging for food, so I took a cup of cat food out for it. Duke followed us. The new cat was already waiting. When I poured the food into the bowl, the new cat chowed hungrily. The chicken joined her. I tried to put Duke down so he could eat, but he was frightened — not of the chicken, but of the new cat.

Actually, he was probably just craving Cheetos.