Cat-astrophes -- Part Trois

Foot Fetish: Every shoe in the house has shredded shoelaces. Even the shoes that don’t have laces have a wary look about them, knowing if they did have laces, they would be chewed, clawed, and otherwise defiled. Half of the trainers have missing aiglets (the plastic tip at the end of the laces—bonus points in Trivial Pursuit!). And my new lavender slippers with the furry tops have a suspicious moistness about them in the mornings, as if to suggest someone—I dare not say who!—may have been licking the fur in the wee hours of the night.

Succulent Shoelaces

Packaging as a Decorative Accent: The Boyz got a really fancy cat tree a couple of months ago. It has seven levels that offer a choice of two houses, a ramp, a set of stairs, a tube, a pair of high shelves, and a hammock (which is their favorite part). However, they may just prefer the carton the whole thing came in. I don’t claim that to be a unique observation; the same has been said about gifts given to small children and dawgs. However, the lengths to which the kitties venerate the carton is extraordinary, including digging holes to allow multi-level access, bending the top three inches to form a ridge so that they can tight-rope walk along the edge, and licking off the various labels to make the entire structure oh that much more attractive. Aye, right. :)

The Everest Experience: As smallscale (and somewhat hairier) Sir Edmund Hillarys, Winston and Franklin have embraced the instinctive desire to climb and have taken it to—forgive me—new heights. They’ve tested draperies, curtains, hanging bath towels, even an eight-foot curio cabinet, whose conquest resulted in substantial disturbance amongst my game shrine. Their latest récréation du jour is surmounting shower curtains. Crack-of-dawn crashes over the last few days confirm that sometimes “I climbed it because it is there” can be appended with, “Well, not any more.” ;)

Gasp!
You are going to be in soooo much trouble!