Random Thoughts and Musings

The unexpected arrival of Willow D. Kitten has given my little family quite the shimmy-shimmy-shakeup. We were a very quiet family of three: Rascal Lee Kitten, Lil Lady, and I.

Rascal Lee Kitten, while quite rambunctious as a lil bitty 6-week old kitten (hence the moniker-turned-official name “rascally kitten”), is a very unassuming and laid back fat cat. He rather likes our quiet apartment, since he no longer has 3-5 children chasing him or kicking him or otherwise abusing him. He does miss having Uncle Mike around to enjoy some quiet time with, though. Rascal Lee simply has no need for silly-kitty games like “jump out from behind a shadow and attempt to scare you shitless,” or “hide behind couch and attack your hair,” or even “climb into the refrigerator and try to break into the turkey-drawer.”

Willow D. Kitten, however, apparently finds these games necessary. To date, he has kitten-dialed four people, sent one kittenese text to a friend, typed several kittenese messages on social networks, and even typed three kittenese emails (that SOMEHOW got sent!). He has also gotten stuck in cabinets (serves him right for climbing into my clean pots, dammit!), in the refrigerator (thank God we were simply pouring milk into a pot on the stove, then returning the carton to the fridge), in a plastic bin (teach ya to try to drag my clean sheets out for your sleeping pleasure, won’t it, kitty?), and in his cat carrier (I warned you that I had not removed the gate yet, you goober). He has left too many scratches to count - on anyone who dares enter his playpen (i.e. our apartment or anywhere else he happens to be). He has made us fully aware that the world is his oyster, which he intends to conquer!

A while back, Lil Lady and I were in the living room, watching a show. We were also watching Willow D. Kitten prance, pounce, and play his way around the apartment. Because we live in an small apartment, from the living room we can see the dining room, the kitchen, and part of the laundry room. Willow D. Kitten was chasing invisible playmates in the kitchen. I had him in the corner of my eye, waiting to see if he would try to jump on the counters. Suddenly, he disappeared. I looked over towards the kitchen to see if he’d jumped and I hadn’t noticed the movement. Only, he wasn’t there. ANYWHERE in the kitchen.

“Well, how’d he get past me? Where is he,” I asked Lil Lady. She looked around the three rooms we could see, went into her room to check, and then looked in the front hall by the door. “I have no idea. He must be hiding out.”

We went back about our business. Suddenly, I see him in the kitchen again, prancing around. How in the world? I looked at Lil Lady, she looked at me, and we shrugged. We continue watching our show, keeping a closer eye on him. Something dramatic happens, and we’re more focused on the TV than the kitten, and he disappears again. We look at each other, look around the room, and start to investigate. I’m standing in the kitchen, looking up on the counters, trying to see above the cabinets, when suddenly sharp claws swipe across my ankle. What the heck? I kneel down, no kitten. I look around, no kitten.

I walk away, and he chases me. What the HECK??? Again, I watch him as he romps and plays, and follow him as he leaves the room. Giving up, I sit back down. Lil Lady and I discuss it a bit, and she looks just as perplexed as I.

Willow D. Kitten heads back to the kitchen, so we watch closely. He prances, pounces, plunders his way over and under the soda box, grocery bags, and 1-step stool we have left in the kitchen for his playing pleasure. Suddenly, as he’s scampering around the baseboard under the kitchen cabinets, he scrambles into the corner, disappearing! I cracked up, opened the corner cabinet to confirm my suspicion, and realized the way they trimmed the cabinets did not seal off the space underneath. He couldn’t get into the cabinet, but there is plenty of play-space beneath the cabinets, for however long he fits through this three-inch triangle of space.

Mystery solved!

Now, if we could only find my good tweezers, which he stole. I do *not* want to spend $10 replacing them!!

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