No, he's not pushing the 'nip (although if he realized how much control he could exert over El Gato by becoming her pusher, he might); he has just learned a bit more about the physics of moving furniture.
This started with the hamper.
Between our bed and the wall, there is just room to place a wicker clothes hamper. This serves 2 purposes; it holds dirty clothes and it blocks the access to 'the cubbyhole of doom'.
('The cubbyhole of doom' is a small, cat sized cave between the bed frames and the wall. No matter what we do, there is always a gap and the cats go in it and we live in fear that they'll get stuck or squished when something moves. The cats go in there and refuse to come out just to freak us out)
Well, La Doof Kitton, in a moment of clumsiness, stepped on the lid only when climbing onto the hamper. The lid wedged down and he rode his elevator of the hamper lid down to the floor as he and the lid shoved the hamper away from the wall.
He was thrilled--he not only got behind the hamper, he opened the door to 'the cubbyhole of doom'. He explored this new skill and learned that if he squished himself against the wall, he could fit between the wall and the hamper, slither down to the floor, then shove with all his might, moving the hamper.
He now repeats shoving the hamper away from the wall at least once a night.
The next day, as we were, once again, doing the dance of "chase the kittehs out of the laundry room", La Doof Kitton, as usual, climbed under the drying rack to avoid capture. He decided to see what happened if he used his new-found 'pushing' skills. He immediately discovered that mom is lousy at figuring out what to do when the entire drying rack of clothes moves itself around the laundry room. He was to squirmy and quick to grab w/o dumping my clean laundry onto the floor. The rack itself tends to collapse when you grab one it (leading to the same problem--clean laundry on the floor (and heaven knows that if there is one speck of dirt on my laundry room floor, a clean, white article of clothing will land on it)).
I had to, one at a time, pick up each article of damp clothing, lay it on the dryer, then pick up the drying rack, extricate the kitton, deposit him under a laundry basket for a few minutes (I'd have simply dumped him on the wrong side of the door but then he'd just weasel in when I left), re-hang my clothes, and then take kitton, laundry basket and myself upstairs.
I believe a knowledge of physics simply makes him dangerous--heaven knows he'll use it for evil.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
More monsters..
This morning, the humans in the house slept late because we've got a touch of something unpleasant.
La Doof Kitton, being himself, decided to make sure that we were grumpy immediately when we finally dragged ourselves out of bed.
I woke up, took down the baby gate to release the hound, and stumbled to the kitchen to turn on the teakettle. I suddenly realized that the contents of 3 bookshelves wasn't supposed to be lying in the living room floor; the 'basket of odds and ends' (which contains hair clips and car keys and brushes and pet toenail clippers and is 4 shelves up to be as close to out of reach as possible) was upside down and odds and ends littered the floor, books were on their sides and all around the room, nick-knacks and toys were strewn across the carpet. All in all, it looked like a small, Tasmanian devil sized tornado had hit or that a mischievous kitten had spent half the night pushing things off the shelves and watching them bounce across the floor. I'm guessing Taz didn't do it.
(Let me interrupt myself here to mention that, since I've become a responsible grown-up (ha! funny) my toys have gotten more and more expensive. And more and more breakable. So my 'action figures' have been replaced by miniatures; my glass bits have been replaced with wee antiques; my thrift-store paperbacks have been supplemented with (er, not replaced :-) with lovely leather bound editions, etc. This increases my irritation when my belongings are attacked. Everyone knows this, which is why no one messes w/ the thrift store paperbacks and everyone messes with the first edition antiques)
I decide that the fewer pets who are around to 'help' when I'm picking this up, the better. So I go to the door to let Dawg out but stop when I realize that she is begging to go outside to play with a toy. It's not her toy; actually, it's not even my toy. It's a miniature of a monster that Mr. G has taken the job of painting for a friend. Nothing like thinking the dog has a hair clip and realizing that it's something closer to this--and that for extra fun, someone has already put a lot of time and effort into it and it doesn't belong to us:
(No, it wasn't this. This is one we photographed at games day a few years ago painted by someone w/ a lot of talent. I'm an almost adequate painter. Mr. G is a very good painter. The guy who painted that was stupendous)
I immediately switched into "talk them off the ledge" mode; I convinced Dawg to, very gently, lay the wee squid-looking miniature critter into my hand in exchange for a dog biscut. Then I shoved her outside with said biscut as I inspected the miniature. It had not been crushed in the "Jaws of Doom"--small miracle. And the paint was, for the most part, unchipped. Which lead me to wonder where on earth Dawg had found this treasured little monster
Dawg is a destructive force of nature but she doesn't act on her own; the monsters had been secured out of La Doof Kitton's reach in the kitchen...or actually, NOT out of his reach in the kitchen, although we thought they were. Mr. G and I spent the next 40 minutes looking for the other missing miniatures and finding them, eventually, in one piece under the couch. These have now been secured in a locking case in the basement (in the boarded up room).
Everything is back on the respective shelves, and I told La Doof Kitton that finding the pet nailclippers in the middle of the floor is what reminded me that he needed his claws trimmed--here's hoping that he won't choose to remind me of them again this way.
La Doof Kitton, being himself, decided to make sure that we were grumpy immediately when we finally dragged ourselves out of bed.
I woke up, took down the baby gate to release the hound, and stumbled to the kitchen to turn on the teakettle. I suddenly realized that the contents of 3 bookshelves wasn't supposed to be lying in the living room floor; the 'basket of odds and ends' (which contains hair clips and car keys and brushes and pet toenail clippers and is 4 shelves up to be as close to out of reach as possible) was upside down and odds and ends littered the floor, books were on their sides and all around the room, nick-knacks and toys were strewn across the carpet. All in all, it looked like a small, Tasmanian devil sized tornado had hit or that a mischievous kitten had spent half the night pushing things off the shelves and watching them bounce across the floor. I'm guessing Taz didn't do it.
(Let me interrupt myself here to mention that, since I've become a responsible grown-up (ha! funny) my toys have gotten more and more expensive. And more and more breakable. So my 'action figures' have been replaced by miniatures; my glass bits have been replaced with wee antiques; my thrift-store paperbacks have been supplemented with (er, not replaced :-) with lovely leather bound editions, etc. This increases my irritation when my belongings are attacked. Everyone knows this, which is why no one messes w/ the thrift store paperbacks and everyone messes with the first edition antiques)
I decide that the fewer pets who are around to 'help' when I'm picking this up, the better. So I go to the door to let Dawg out but stop when I realize that she is begging to go outside to play with a toy. It's not her toy; actually, it's not even my toy. It's a miniature of a monster that Mr. G has taken the job of painting for a friend. Nothing like thinking the dog has a hair clip and realizing that it's something closer to this--and that for extra fun, someone has already put a lot of time and effort into it and it doesn't belong to us:
(No, it wasn't this. This is one we photographed at games day a few years ago painted by someone w/ a lot of talent. I'm an almost adequate painter. Mr. G is a very good painter. The guy who painted that was stupendous)
I immediately switched into "talk them off the ledge" mode; I convinced Dawg to, very gently, lay the wee squid-looking miniature critter into my hand in exchange for a dog biscut. Then I shoved her outside with said biscut as I inspected the miniature. It had not been crushed in the "Jaws of Doom"--small miracle. And the paint was, for the most part, unchipped. Which lead me to wonder where on earth Dawg had found this treasured little monster
Dawg is a destructive force of nature but she doesn't act on her own; the monsters had been secured out of La Doof Kitton's reach in the kitchen...or actually, NOT out of his reach in the kitchen, although we thought they were. Mr. G and I spent the next 40 minutes looking for the other missing miniatures and finding them, eventually, in one piece under the couch. These have now been secured in a locking case in the basement (in the boarded up room).
Everything is back on the respective shelves, and I told La Doof Kitton that finding the pet nailclippers in the middle of the floor is what reminded me that he needed his claws trimmed--here's hoping that he won't choose to remind me of them again this way.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
La Doof Kitton, the monster slayer
The kind folks at perpetual kid (again, not getting kickbacks but I wouldn't object to getting them in the future... ;-) included things just for La Doof Kitton.
A family member got me a lovely scarf from the site for Christmas and it came with a wee, orange, rubbery monster finger puppet. I had it perched on my computer but *someone* stole it and now I can't find it.
It was last seen being conquered by La Doof Kitton. He would probably like to thank them for the lovely toy but being as he hid it extremely well and has forgotten where, I won't push it.
A family member got me a lovely scarf from the site for Christmas and it came with a wee, orange, rubbery monster finger puppet. I had it perched on my computer but *someone* stole it and now I can't find it.
It was last seen being conquered by La Doof Kitton. He would probably like to thank them for the lovely toy but being as he hid it extremely well and has forgotten where, I won't push it.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Things La Doof Kitton has done so far in 2009
(I didn't include anything involving the Christmas tree...I count that as all 2008)
I told La Doof Kitton he should make a New Year's resolution to better himself.
He glared at me.
I told him that I'd already helped El Gato make one to loose weight (she glared at me for that. I'm fairly certain she plans to murder me in my sleep) and Dawg one to not eat random crap, not to track things in and to not jump up on humans (she didn't glare, she's much to happy in her Dawggie-ness to glare. She just grabbed a leaf she had tracked in and ate it. That might actually be progress--she's cleaning up after herself when she tracks in)
La Doof Kitton glared some more. So I told him I expected him, if he was to get gifts from Sandy Paws next Catsmas, to not be in trouble more than an average of once per day. And that I'd keep track here. I've been tracking since the 2nd (the first is a holiday, it's a 'gimme' :-)
Today is Jan 12th, this is the list of things he's done in the first 12 days of 2009:
*Footnote:I told La Doof Kitton he should make a New Year's resolution to better himself.
He glared at me.
I told him that I'd already helped El Gato make one to loose weight (she glared at me for that. I'm fairly certain she plans to murder me in my sleep) and Dawg one to not eat random crap, not to track things in and to not jump up on humans (she didn't glare, she's much to happy in her Dawggie-ness to glare. She just grabbed a leaf she had tracked in and ate it. That might actually be progress--she's cleaning up after herself when she tracks in)
La Doof Kitton glared some more. So I told him I expected him, if he was to get gifts from Sandy Paws next Catsmas, to not be in trouble more than an average of once per day. And that I'd keep track here. I've been tracking since the 2nd (the first is a holiday, it's a 'gimme' :-)
Today is Jan 12th, this is the list of things he's done in the first 12 days of 2009:
- Stole the cover from Mr. G's razor
- The toaster incident
- Stole the cap to the caulk
- Chewed off the dangly bits on his Christmas present and fed them to Dawg. Twice. (the toy is now staying broken, I refuse to fix it again)
- Knocked over my sewing machine
- Pushed a stack of books off the table
- Attacked my head at an 'inopportune' time for no reason(twice if I count falling on me* [see footnote])
- Tried to feed my hair clips to the dog (we're up to 4 on this)
- Fished around in my purse for keys (so I didn't have them at work)
- Tried to break laws of physics--those that say that 2 objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time. (Said space was, of course, on top of my face while I was trying to sleep. I decided not to call it attempted murder though; he was fairly obliging when I shoved him off the bed at 3 am)
- Stole (and hid, obviously) the kitty toenail clippers (after being difficult about having toenails trimmed)
- Fished kleenex out of the nightstand (they can't be ON the nightstand because someone steals them) and shredded them. In Dawg's bed in order to frame her
- Knocked over the hamper (twice)
- Stole breath-spray out of my purse
- Knocked off the counter and tried to open the kitteh treats at 2 am (twice)
- Hid in inaccessible parts of the furnace room (gnawing on rat poison and rolling in spiderwebs for all I know) and made me chase him around in order to remove him from the forbidden room of dangers and return him to the house
- Climbed up the exercise bike and left gaping claw marks in the 'upholstered seat' (I'll get pics of this eventually)
- Attacked/annoyed his pet sister(s) --this remains steady at 'to many times for me to count
the story of falling on me:
I was riding the previously mentioned reclining exercise bike. Since exercising is warm work, I opened the window. La Doof Kitton sat in said window until he got bored and moved from there to the bookcase above my head. He was weaving his way among the books and knickknacks and forgot how to walk...and fell. Directly onto my head.
In this situation, he did what any self-respecting cat would do...he stuck all his claws into my scalp and back.
I did what any self-respecting person would do...I panicked.
Panicking = moving.
Moving = kitteh falling further...
I eventually extricated him from my back and shoulder (he had the moxie to look miffed that I slightly squirshled his tail in the process) and only needed a few band aids. I'm assuming it was an accident but I can't *quite* be sure.
Nightime sweet nothings
Last night, I was in bed when Mr. G came to bed and La Doof Kitton decided to 'sleep' with him (La Doof Kitton's definition of sleep varying greatly from our definition of sleep.
I heard a conversation (I'm afraid I couldn't hear La Doof Kitton's side, you'll have to settle for just Mr G's) that went rather like this:
"Awww, you want to snuggle. What a sweet kitteh catus.
*
It's very adorable and cute that you want to sleep with your face on my cheek but my lungs object to you completey coverin both my nose and my mouth.
*
I showered today, you do not need to lick my face and hands until the bleed.
*
Quit hogging the pillow. You are 1/50th my size, you don't need 90% of it.
*
If you continue licking my scalp, you will give me a receeding hairline.
*
GAH, put those claws in when you try to poke me.
*
[At this point, EL Gato joined them and much growling ensued--from El Gato]
And dangit, quit picking on you sister (El Gato). I'm gonna be clawed to pieces.
Picking on your sister's tail still counts as picking on your sister. Knock it off
..."
At this point, I drifted off to sleep (happy that, for once, La Doof Kitton slept w/ Mr. G instead of me) and didn't wake back up again until morning; whereupon I found the door closed and the cats on the other side of it. Apparently they were eventually not allowed to 'sleep' with us.
I heard a conversation (I'm afraid I couldn't hear La Doof Kitton's side, you'll have to settle for just Mr G's) that went rather like this:
"Awww, you want to snuggle. What a sweet kitteh catus.
*
It's very adorable and cute that you want to sleep with your face on my cheek but my lungs object to you completey coverin both my nose and my mouth.
*
I showered today, you do not need to lick my face and hands until the bleed.
*
Quit hogging the pillow. You are 1/50th my size, you don't need 90% of it.
*
If you continue licking my scalp, you will give me a receeding hairline.
*
GAH, put those claws in when you try to poke me.
*
[At this point, EL Gato joined them and much growling ensued--from El Gato]
And dangit, quit picking on you sister (El Gato). I'm gonna be clawed to pieces.
Picking on your sister's tail still counts as picking on your sister. Knock it off
..."
At this point, I drifted off to sleep (happy that, for once, La Doof Kitton slept w/ Mr. G instead of me) and didn't wake back up again until morning; whereupon I found the door closed and the cats on the other side of it. Apparently they were eventually not allowed to 'sleep' with us.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
A non-video
La Doof Kitton is fascinated by the bathroom sink. Whenever we enter the bathroom, he rushes in to sit on the counter and wait for the sink to be turned on.
Friday night, when I was taking a shower, La Doof Kitton came and waited by the sink. Very patiently. For 1/2 an hour. (he did, occasionally, attack his tail [his tail is named Scooter. La Doof Kitton isn't convinced that, on occasion, Scooter is merely a giant worm attacking La Doof Kitton's butt and living as a gray, fuzzy parasite], this kept him from dying of kitteh boredom).
At the end of the 1/2 hour, I grabbed the camera and turned on the faucet so I could record his amusing water activities and share them with the world. Or at least with all 4 readers of this blog.
I turned on the camera, turned on the faucet and...
Nothing.
ABSOLUTELY Nothing.
I even dripped water on his head (what can I say, sometimes I'm mean) and...basically nothing
So I'm uploading the nothing so you can see the nothing that proves how contrary kittehs can be. (there is no sound, don't adjust your volume)
click below to go to the video (sorry, I couldn't make it upload here):
Video Link
(And, OMG, the file is HUGE. This still has problems. I'm working on fixing it, don't know if I can. Apologizes all around.)
(aaaaannnnd, now it's working. Although it's still huge, sorry.)
Friday night, when I was taking a shower, La Doof Kitton came and waited by the sink. Very patiently. For 1/2 an hour. (he did, occasionally, attack his tail [his tail is named Scooter. La Doof Kitton isn't convinced that, on occasion, Scooter is merely a giant worm attacking La Doof Kitton's butt and living as a gray, fuzzy parasite], this kept him from dying of kitteh boredom).
At the end of the 1/2 hour, I grabbed the camera and turned on the faucet so I could record his amusing water activities and share them with the world. Or at least with all 4 readers of this blog.
I turned on the camera, turned on the faucet and...
Nothing.
ABSOLUTELY Nothing.
I even dripped water on his head (what can I say, sometimes I'm mean) and...basically nothing
So I'm uploading the nothing so you can see the nothing that proves how contrary kittehs can be. (there is no sound, don't adjust your volume)
click below to go to the video (sorry, I couldn't make it upload here):
Video Link
(And, OMG, the file is HUGE. This still has problems. I'm working on fixing it, don't know if I can. Apologizes all around.)
(aaaaannnnd, now it's working. Although it's still huge, sorry.)
Undecorating
The pets helping us un-decorate...
First helping dad take down the garland.
Then helping mom take down the nativity set and put it in boxes.
And then helping take the tree apart.
First helping dad take down the garland.
Then helping mom take down the nativity set and put it in boxes.
And then helping take the tree apart.
The Christmas Tree...
Everything is packed away.
For your edification, the Christmas tree, 48 hours after decorating (Essentially, the 'before' pic. Although you'll notice there is already a 'gap' at the bottom where ornaments have been removed):
(El Gato clearly approves)
After much of La Doof Kitton's climbing about in and around the Christmas tree (like this):
The pictures of the final tree are...not actually that bad. (you can't really see it in the pictures but the bottom 4 layers of branches [it's an artificial tree] aren't actually *attached* to the tree in the back anymore. They're just resting on the branches below them or the floor. I'm not sure how he managed that. And please notice the lack of ...well, everything on the bottom 1/2 of the tree)
AFTER:
(and please note that the plant behind the tree? that's new. Because La Doof Kitton plucked every. single. leaf off the coleus that was there in the first picture. It's in plant heaven.)
Also note the prominently placed water-bottle to squirt misbehaving kittons who are un-decorating the tree.
So, generally, the tree survived. I'll upload the pets helping us pack up Christmas momentarily.
For your edification, the Christmas tree, 48 hours after decorating (Essentially, the 'before' pic. Although you'll notice there is already a 'gap' at the bottom where ornaments have been removed):
(El Gato clearly approves)
After much of La Doof Kitton's climbing about in and around the Christmas tree (like this):
The pictures of the final tree are...not actually that bad. (you can't really see it in the pictures but the bottom 4 layers of branches [it's an artificial tree] aren't actually *attached* to the tree in the back anymore. They're just resting on the branches below them or the floor. I'm not sure how he managed that. And please notice the lack of ...well, everything on the bottom 1/2 of the tree)
AFTER:
(and please note that the plant behind the tree? that's new. Because La Doof Kitton plucked every. single. leaf off the coleus that was there in the first picture. It's in plant heaven.)
Also note the prominently placed water-bottle to squirt misbehaving kittons who are un-decorating the tree.
So, generally, the tree survived. I'll upload the pets helping us pack up Christmas momentarily.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Once again, the forbidden objects are more interesting than the toys...
There are OODLES of cat toys in my house. Cat toys that are largely ignored in favor of non-toy items.
So, this morning, at 3:04 AM, when I was yanked from my blissful sleepyheadedness into the dary and tired world of "WTF time is it and why am I awake?" by a crash-thump-thump, I assumed that someone was playing with non-toys. Since Dawg was asleep by the bed and El Gato was curled up on the nightstand, the guilty party had to be La Doof Kitton.
This crash was too loud to be ignored (yes, sometimes, 3 am crashes are ignored because the damage is already done--I can put the books back on the shelf tomorrow and not have to leave the confines of my warm bed) so we headed in the general direction of the cacophony. I veered through the living room and Mr. G headed through the kitchen and we met next to the microwave cart (on which rest a blender, a toaster, and cat treats) which marks the line between kitchen and living room.
As I looked at La Doof Kitton sitting with a look of pure innocence on the coffee table (the more intensely disinterested and innocent he looks the greater his measure of guilt and destruction) I burst in to the sort of hysterical laughter that one is only capable of when grumpily awakened at 3 am as I asked "WHY is there a toaster in the middle of my living room floor?"
Being unable to answer that question, we returned the toaster to it's home, ignored the toast crumbs spread across the floor (we were hoping Dawg would get them in the morning but I believe vacuuming is in order. But not at 3 am), and dragged our sorry selves back to bed.
(Once in bed, La Doof Kitton came to snuggle. Mr. G suggested we pretend he was a toaster and nudge him off the edge and see if toast crumbs fell out...)
So, this morning, at 3:04 AM, when I was yanked from my blissful sleepyheadedness into the dary and tired world of "WTF time is it and why am I awake?" by a crash-thump-thump, I assumed that someone was playing with non-toys. Since Dawg was asleep by the bed and El Gato was curled up on the nightstand, the guilty party had to be La Doof Kitton.
This crash was too loud to be ignored (yes, sometimes, 3 am crashes are ignored because the damage is already done--I can put the books back on the shelf tomorrow and not have to leave the confines of my warm bed) so we headed in the general direction of the cacophony. I veered through the living room and Mr. G headed through the kitchen and we met next to the microwave cart (on which rest a blender, a toaster, and cat treats) which marks the line between kitchen and living room.
As I looked at La Doof Kitton sitting with a look of pure innocence on the coffee table (the more intensely disinterested and innocent he looks the greater his measure of guilt and destruction) I burst in to the sort of hysterical laughter that one is only capable of when grumpily awakened at 3 am as I asked "WHY is there a toaster in the middle of my living room floor?"
Being unable to answer that question, we returned the toaster to it's home, ignored the toast crumbs spread across the floor (we were hoping Dawg would get them in the morning but I believe vacuuming is in order. But not at 3 am), and dragged our sorry selves back to bed.
(Once in bed, La Doof Kitton came to snuggle. Mr. G suggested we pretend he was a toaster and nudge him off the edge and see if toast crumbs fell out...)
Thursday, January 1, 2009
The best toys in the world are the ones we don't let him have...
The pets got Christmas gifts.
Dawg is chewing on new bones; La Doof Kitton got oodles of various toys--he's been busy playing with the packaging (he'll get to the toys once I toss the packaging). He and El Gato have both been playing with El Gato's favorite, her pawbreakers.
(I have to interrupt myself for a minute to say how wonderful pawbreakers are. And no, they're not paying me to say this, although if someone from the company wants to pay me to say this again and/or send me a box of pawbreakers, I'd not complain *waving to people who wish to send me cash and toys*.
Pawbreakers are large gumball sized balls of pressed catnip. They are the ONLY 'toy' that can almost always convince El Gato to get off her plump behind and play. They are a 3-in-1 bit of kitteh heaven; 1 part catnip, 1 part treat [edible catnip, yay! And for the record, yes, Dawg eats these too, which gives her catnip-py fresh breath], 1 part toy [ball = toy]. They don't make the kittehs sick after eating (like cat grass does), they aren't insanely expensive when Dawg eats them ($3.50 a pop), and they don't stain the carpet. )
But, as always, La Doof Kitton's favorite toys remain those that he's not allowed to have.
When we got home, we found that a bit of the bathtub needed to be caulked. La Doof Kitton wished to help--which would be splendid if his idea of helping didn't involve putting a paw in wet caulk and otherwise making fur fly. La Doof Kitton was locked out of the bathroom while Mr. G caulked...and all was well until the job was finished and Mr. G said "obscenity obscenity La Doof Kitton!"
I immediately started looking for La Doof Kitton and eventually found him under the couch, where he was busy trying to put the lid from the caulk under the nearby bookcase. Apparently 30,00,000 toys don't suffice, he'd much rather have the caulk lid.
A few hours later, we gave him the ring from the milk carton. He played happily (again, much more valuable to him than the toys we BUY for him.) until he was done playing. At which point, he decided to booby trap his daddy's shoes. Apparently La Doof Kitton likes hearing "obscenity obscenity La Doof Kitton!" as Mr. G puts on his shoes and finds sharp plasticky bits poking into the bottom of the foot.
(I can plainly see the "huh, what do you mean I can't leave it here? I worked so hard to get it here! It'll be FUNNY" expression.)
Dawg is chewing on new bones; La Doof Kitton got oodles of various toys--he's been busy playing with the packaging (he'll get to the toys once I toss the packaging). He and El Gato have both been playing with El Gato's favorite, her pawbreakers.
(I have to interrupt myself for a minute to say how wonderful pawbreakers are. And no, they're not paying me to say this, although if someone from the company wants to pay me to say this again and/or send me a box of pawbreakers, I'd not complain *waving to people who wish to send me cash and toys*.
Pawbreakers are large gumball sized balls of pressed catnip. They are the ONLY 'toy' that can almost always convince El Gato to get off her plump behind and play. They are a 3-in-1 bit of kitteh heaven; 1 part catnip, 1 part treat [edible catnip, yay! And for the record, yes, Dawg eats these too, which gives her catnip-py fresh breath], 1 part toy [ball = toy]. They don't make the kittehs sick after eating (like cat grass does), they aren't insanely expensive when Dawg eats them ($3.50 a pop), and they don't stain the carpet. )
But, as always, La Doof Kitton's favorite toys remain those that he's not allowed to have.
When we got home, we found that a bit of the bathtub needed to be caulked. La Doof Kitton wished to help--which would be splendid if his idea of helping didn't involve putting a paw in wet caulk and otherwise making fur fly. La Doof Kitton was locked out of the bathroom while Mr. G caulked...and all was well until the job was finished and Mr. G said "obscenity obscenity La Doof Kitton!"
I immediately started looking for La Doof Kitton and eventually found him under the couch, where he was busy trying to put the lid from the caulk under the nearby bookcase. Apparently 30,00,000 toys don't suffice, he'd much rather have the caulk lid.
A few hours later, we gave him the ring from the milk carton. He played happily (again, much more valuable to him than the toys we BUY for him.) until he was done playing. At which point, he decided to booby trap his daddy's shoes. Apparently La Doof Kitton likes hearing "obscenity obscenity La Doof Kitton!" as Mr. G puts on his shoes and finds sharp plasticky bits poking into the bottom of the foot.
(I can plainly see the "huh, what do you mean I can't leave it here? I worked so hard to get it here! It'll be FUNNY" expression.)
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