Cats are funny creatures, especially in plural form. My three-year-old tuxedo, Vivi, and the 4-month-old kitten that we rescued and named Jenkins, are settling in nicely and many shenanigans have ensued. They enjoy the laser pointer– so much in fact, that they have commandeered it and attempted to play without me. But I have all the thumbs, so they need me. I hope they realize this.
They have not returned the laser pointer, nor given me any indication of its whereabouts. I suspect they may be attempting to reverse-engineer it somehow.
They’re clearly up to something. Something nefarious. One morning I woke up to find them sleeping so close to each other that they might’ve been touching. This was unprecedented, and quite shocking. The first thought through my dream-addled mind was “Don’t trust them. They just want the nuclear launch codes.” *blinks*
Or you know…breakfast. Whichever.
You see, the night before on Talk Soup, there had been a report that the British Royals’ cat had gone missing and suddenly reappeared after two months.There was some speculation that the cat had been abducted by the Chinese and implanted with an electronic listening device (not really all that outlandish of a theory these days…) I like to think that if my cats are plotting world domination, they’d be in it for themselves, though, and not colluding with the Chinese.