Wire

The shelter warned us, six and a half years ago, that cat can be destructive. Can be hard on furniture and rugs, make messes, bad odors, be loud and disruptive. Wise of them, really, they want their animals to have permanent homes. They actually called our landlord to make sure cats were allowed there. Moby simply never lived up to these worst case scenarios, aside from the odd spate of thinking outside the box* - as it were. He's beat the hell out of a few wooly mice toys, a small area of rug fringe damage, nothing to speak of. He's ingested string and ribbon, which we are now intensely careful to keep away from him.

So when D sent an email this morning that he'd found his earphone cord destroyed by cat, I was a little surprized, confused, and sneakingly proud that the warnings had finally proved a bit true at least. I expect they'd been dangling, tantalizing. Still, go cat go. And don't do it again.



Took a long, hot bath this morning. Moby jumped off the bed, came in, mrrk'd at me, reached a paw up to peer in, nose my face. I assured him I was just taking a bath, he wandered off reluctantly, baffled, but whatever. Since I've been out, he's been head rubbing a lot. I stopped him before I had my legs dry. He's done that to wet legs before, and hasn't liked it much.





Air crappy, again. Predicted to be much worse tomorrow. Can't be pleasant for little lungs, either.


*"Oooo, I could pee here."