Day Two was Wednesday, a gray, rainy day with high winds tossing branches about, whirling leaves past the windows, and whistling a frightening tune. While the storm raged outside, the cats sat about subdued, watching me. Wilbur, who’d napped on my hip the day before, ran from me every time I approached.
Chick was less afraid, but no friendlier. Only Millie responded to my petting, only Millie (the mother, former street urchin) was unafraid. Nevertheless, they were no longer sitting in the windowsill. 
By evening, when the winds had died down, they were ready to play, not just with their toys, but with any piece of paper I crumpled in their hearing. The window perch I’d set up the night before their arrival suddenly fell to the floor, happily with no one on or under it. The initial adhesive strip had pulled off the windowsill – I’ll have to find a way to fasten it again, since the kids like that perch so much. In the meanwhile, I’ve wedged phone books between it and a counter stool under it to keep it in place.
Day Three, Thursday, dawned bright and cold. I woke realizing that my reasonably neat home was chaotic with the cats’ toys and their re-purposing of all my stuff into yet more toys. I dreaded the mess, and went out to feed them. They’re everywhere, up on the counter, places they should be and places they oughtn’t. Then they tumble all over each other and make me laugh out loud. I cleaned up after their and my breakfasts then left for an early appointment in the City.
On my return they've rediscovered another window – the birds are back after the storm, and the three are tensed to pounce.
By evening, when the winds had died down, they were ready to play, not just with their toys, but with any piece of paper I crumpled in their hearing. The window perch I’d set up the night before their arrival suddenly fell to the floor, happily with no one on or under it. The initial adhesive strip had pulled off the windowsill – I’ll have to find a way to fasten it again, since the kids like that perch so much. In the meanwhile, I’ve wedged phone books between it and a counter stool under it to keep it in place.
Day Three, Thursday, dawned bright and cold. I woke realizing that my reasonably neat home was chaotic with the cats’ toys and their re-purposing of all my stuff into yet more toys. I dreaded the mess, and went out to feed them. They’re everywhere, up on the counter, places they should be and places they oughtn’t. Then they tumble all over each other and make me laugh out loud. I cleaned up after their and my breakfasts then left for an early appointment in the City.
On my return they've rediscovered another window – the birds are back after the storm, and the three are tensed to pounce.
Of course, there’s a window, a screen, and bars on the window between them and the birds, so the birds are not worried. Clearly Chick is the huntress, and when she and her brother fight over a crumpled piece of paper, she wins.
None of this distracts them from their exploration of the kitchen. Suddenly there’s a beeping from the stove, as if they’d stepped on the timer. The kittens are too light to have any effect, but Millie is plenty heavy. I yell and wave so they (all three at once) run away, but then I see that they’ve turned on the oven. Must find a way to cover those buttons if Millie’s going to go walking along there.
Millie’s finally used the second perch at the window from which she can actually see the street and passersby. Unfortunately from there she wants to leap to the sink.
Every day an adventure.
~ Molly Matera, signing off. Must see what they’re doing in the other room……
Millie’s finally used the second perch at the window from which she can actually see the street and passersby. Unfortunately from there she wants to leap to the sink.
Every day an adventure.
~ Molly Matera, signing off. Must see what they’re doing in the other room……
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BTW, my marauders are all over the stove, too, so I've wound paper towels around the knobs so the kitties can't turn on the burners anymore (very nearly a crisis!). I suppose I should actually get "real" childproofing items. Now, if I could only teach them to make me a cuppa on demand! Especially since they seem quite able to get into the tea cabinet and appear to like tea (dry) themselves. Now I really can't afford to bring back any tea from across the pond! Between that cabinet's doors, I've lately wedged a kitchen appliance pamplet, which seems to deter my mad katters from holding their own tea parties.
ReplyDeleteNow I'm nervous about the burner knobs! They don't appear to have made any attempts thus far, but I'll keep an eye out. Also the door handles haven't occurred to them yet -- time will tell. I once had cats who pried open the fridge door until I connected three belts together to keep it shut.
ReplyDeleteTruly, the paper towels work, though are not quite aesthetically pleasing. Still, one can use the wads to clean up around the stove and replace with new ones, so they do double duty-- small comfort if you are green conscious, but guilty-conscience paper-towel user like moi. (You could always use rags for same purpose--or purchase proper child-proofing apparatus.) The burner knobs were turned on by dint of my mad katters jumping onto the stove, I figure--a dangling foot, a slip? I'm actually glad I have such things as tea pots on my burners, and promptly purchased metal burner covers lest worse happened to the kitties.
ReplyDeleteA Martha Stewart moment: I may replace the paper towels for red cloth for the hols just to lend a festive (but still safe) air!
ReplyDelete