Being a kitten has to be the most fun and exciting life ever. Everything is an adventure and everything that moves is pretend prey. Wiggling feet under the covers or a dangling robe sash is something that must be attacked. A wispy branch from the kindling box, a broken off piece of bark or broom straw is kicked from one end of the house to the other like a hockey puck.
I know there are numerous crinkle balls and aluminum foil balls held hostage somewhere in this house. Once in a while I will come across one under the dresser or stuck beside the washer. The moment I release it is pounced upon by Moby the Destroyer and is rolled around and mauled until it is imprisoned once more in a new location.
Nothing is safe when the Destroyer has come out to plunder and torture all household items with his mighty claw feet. The Rooster and hen embossed on my kitchen rugs look pock marked and beaten. They didn’t have a chance when the Destroyer discovered and raided their placid little farm scene. They are usually tortured into submission daily.
The couch covers and bed quilts are given an acupuncture treatment whether its needed or not. The millions of apparent tiny pin holes are evidence of Moby’s tender care.
He seems to think we are all under his rule. Annabelle can’t take a nap without him rousting her out of her bed, or have a minutes peace without him chasing her across the couch, the buffet and a spring across the dining table. Bedtime for me is considered the perfect time to play with the blind pull and bang its plastic knob against the wall for an hour. A good run zooming from one end of the house to the other using the bed and couches as spring boards is another favorite.
He has found new territory to explore in the higher elevations of his domain. He can now climb up the peaks of the refrigerator and cabinets. He practiced his climbing skills on my drying racks until one collapsed on him. He pretty much leaves them alone now although not conceding to a defeat in any way.
The rest of us are getting tired of the Destroyer’s antics and have decided to do a little fighting back. Annie gives him a good pop to the chops at times and Ruby holds him down with her mouth or paw when he gets too rowdy with her. My newest weapon is called the fly swatter, but I have another plan that is soon to be put into action. It’s called the Veterinarian and it involves a scalpel. Maybe that will take a little of the piss and vinegar out him.
All in all the Destroyer does have a sweet side. He gives a lot of love and no one can resist cuddling him. Sometimes it’s even hard not to laugh at him when he’s on a rampage. It’s called being a kitten and soon he will turn into a fat, lazy fur ball that lays around all day and expects to be waited on by his keeper. I can’t say owner because we know that word does not exist in the cat vocabulary.
So when you see a cute fuzzy kitten and it sucks you in with it’s big woebegone eyes be prepared for the alternate personality to show itself and terrorize your household.