When my children were little—heck when I was little—using the full name meant someone was in serious trouble. If my mother used my full name, I generally went running for a place to hide. Today Wally had better consider that option.
It’s partly Kent’s fault, though. Just this weekend he remarked that the boy kitties seemed to be settling in and weren’t being such noisy terrors at night. Naturally ever since then they’ve been determined to prove him wrong. I say they but really it’s Wally.
Last night he:
•Knocked over the wire trash can.
•Knocked over the paper shredder bin.
•Jumped up onto the top shelf of a five-foot book case to grab the bag that holds my knitting.
•“Investigated” a paper bag we left out—loudly too.
You get the idea. Today my mission is to wake his furry butt up every time I see him sleeping. He’s already been giving me the stink eye but too bad. Tonight I sleep or else he’ll be in a pet carrier.
2 comments:
did the knitting stuff survive?
*shakes with laughter*
He's just doing what Wally does best. Investigating his world. He can't help it if things turn over when he get into them.
I sympathize with the frustration of being owned by an inquisitive cat, but you wouldn't love him as much if he didn't get into all the trouble that makes him "Wally".
Post a Comment