It’s the wee hours of the morning between dark and dawn. I’m awakened by an urgent “scritch-scritch-scritch” of kitty claws on plastic. There is very little plastic in the bedroom, and certainly none approved for kitty usage. I open my eyes and force them to focus — just in time to see Mayhem, perched atop the humidifier, successfully turn the knob from “low” to “high”. He then stands proudly upon the unit with a kitty paw on each of the unit’s four corners, humidified air blowing on his belly. “Im on yur humidifier, humidifying my hair balls.” He seems smug.
UncategorizedWhen he learns to type, I’m in sooo much trouble….