Posts Tagged With: Destruction



Life hasn’t been that joyful in our house lately.  I have become the queen of making ragged ends meet, and am trying to buck myself up in the wake of a job search that just seems to stretch forever with no relief.  I fight with myself daily to get myself to write anything.  I’m telling you this because I’d like to talk about the kitten, and I think that’s key to understanding my obsession for this little bit of black and orange fluff.  And it’s definitely an obsession.

Her name is JennyAnydots, (I say like the song), but I have a penchant for yelling “FLOOF!” at her that Brian has started to imitate.   If I catch Dots unexpectedly, she’ll actually respond to that.  And then immediately pretend that she didn’t, of course.  She is The Night, and she responds to nothing.

She follows me around the house so much that I’ve taken to calling her my familiar.

Dots is not only extraordinarily destructive, she’s the joy of my life.  Brian and I were pondering this last night.  I mean, she really is a terror, to the point that you would think she would be unlovable.  She’s mean to the other cats.  She sharpens her claws on the rugs, the new dining room chairs, even the mattress sometimes.  She has been known to climb curtains.  She broke the ancestral depression glass, and the glass pot lid to my only stew-pot. She eats the sponges and gets into the trash. I was woken up at 3 am the other day by a bite to the big toe (which is why she’s not allowed into the bedroom at night anymore).  I was attacked repeatedly this morning from under the new dust ruffle.  She is nearly always in motion.

“What happened to all our glass measuring cups?” Brian asked me the other day.

“What do you mean?” I said, pointing to the two in the cabinet.  “They’re right there.”

“Yes, but didn’t we have, like, a ton of them?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said.  “But we don’t anymore because Dots.”

I’ve lost a few glass bread pans, too.  She’s her own force of nature, and SO BAD.

The truth is that none of the above bothers me a whit.  The more she gets into and breaks, the more I laugh and the more I love that kitten.  She’s so darn happy in her destruction.  She purrs when ripping things to shreds.  She snuffles around in the kitchen, and if I jump at her she will disappear, fluffy black tail trailing behind, into one of the cabinets, peeking her nose out at intervals.  She runs at break-neck speed toward loud noises so as not to miss anything. You can tell when she climbs the curtains that she’s awfully proud of how high she managed to get.  She cuddles so sweetly, if you can manage to convince her to settle down.  The hours she spends scrabbling in the bathtub after the chain on the rubber plug are the joy of my morning.  Who needs pot lids and measuring cups, anyway?  All I need is that deep-throated purr when I rub her chin, or for her to bury her way under the covers so she can sleep next to me.

Sometimes I worry about what this will mean for my future parenting skills.  Sometimes, I worry what this means now for my sanity.  Until I met Dots, I was not the indulgent type.  But even if I didn’t witness the purfull strewing about of trash, or the munching of the sponge, or the shredding of the stash of paper towels, I don’t mind picking up after it.  I’ll even encourage it.

Here is the conclusion I came to the other night: Someone in this house should practice unbridled joy.  Neither Brian nor I are managing it lately, but that kitten sure does.  On my crankiest days, she reminds me that there is a state of mind where silliness is all that matters.  That is well worth worrying about the state of the rug, cleaning up her trash stash, and stretching the budget to afford the small fortune in sponges she eats.  It’s worth sweeping up another pile of glass from the kitchen floor.  Heck, it’s even worth bites to the toes at 3 am.

The other two cats will live on in our hearts as the cuddly lumps they are, but Dots will go down, well loved, in infamy.

FLOOF! (I think it’s a new rallying cry).

Categories: Life | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments

A Tale of Three Bad Cats


Look at them… they’re clearly plotting something.

The cats are on a roll lately. It seems like a small kitten would not be that much extra cat, but Jennyanydots is extraordinarily naughty, as my sister in law likes to say. Couple Dots’ single minded determination to get into trouble with the neuroticism of the cats we already have, and it’s been, uh… interesting. Brian is fed up. I open the front door at the end of the day gleefully wondering what they’ve destroyed this time. It’s always interesting, and never what you would expect.

Last week, we didn’t close the lidded trash can well enough. Dots, through much determined sniffing, found that she could pull the bit of the trash bag that overhangs the can and ferret her way in. Evidently, tracking the recycling all over the house is not good enough. She wants the dirty stuff in the actual trash can. Preferably to eat.

This week, we got wise and closed everything down properly. But Dots thinks it was her destruction of the trash bag that led to her victory last week. I came home to find that it had snowed plastic bits in the waste alcove, and that the trash can had a red ring around it where the drawstring had fallen free. Lid still intact, though. The humans take this one. I choose not to dwell on the fact that the bag is useless without the drawstring, and it’s going to be a pain to take out the trash next time.

Anydots and Annie have been tearing all over the house after each other. Usually it’s cute.   I realized the other day, though, that they had knocked my dollhouse staircase over and broke off a few of the rails. They came loose clean, so I’ll just have to glue them back on again. Not too bad. Among things that have suffered permanently from the rumpuses are my glass bread pans, and the carved angel knick-knacks (they’re now headless). The kitchen rug is permanently askew.

I came home yesterday to find that they all preferred eating my novel to reading it. Pieces of draft pages are all over the office, mingled with shreds of paper towel. I had just picked up all the remnants of Christmas wrapping and tissue paper they destroyed a few weeks ago. And we haven’t even mentioned the collection of Brian’s black socks they have dragged all over the house in an effort to pretend they’re dead rats.

Little antisocialite Amy has decided that she will not use any box the dirty kitten is allowed to use. Instead, she prefers the dining room carpet.

They ate all of Brian’s trail mix after doing their favorite sneaky trick. They sniffed it and pretended to be uninterested so we would be careless with it. Once we were at work, they ripped the bag open, binged on the contents, and scattered seeds throughout the house.

I’m a sucker for those cats, though. I really am. Dots has the loudest purr, and she gallops onto my lap while vibrating, marching and lifting her chin for pats. She will suddenly decide that on my lap is not close enough, she must be rubbing her cheek on my cheek, charging at my face. Annie just wants to loll on anyone’s lap and be adored. Amy wants to stand close and be admired with no touching. The older cats clean each others’ faces in the morning and sleep entwined. Dots sleeps outside my door and bolts into the bedroom in the morning as soon as anyone opens it. She sits behind my double-sided face mirror and terrorizes the cat on the other side when I’m getting ready in the morning.

For purring in stereo surround sound, I would do an awful lot. Now pass me that carpet cleaner, and stock me up on super glue. I’m going to need it.

Categories: Life | Tags: , , , , , , | 1 Comment

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