Saturday, December 29, 2012

Angel and Demon In a Three Pound Package

There was a time when I would find Bronte sleeping, looking so angelic, and wonder what she dreamed about. Chasing geckos? Batting around a cat toy? Snuggling up to one of us and feeling wonderfully content and all-a-purr?

Now I know. She doesn’t dream about any of those things. Instead, she uses her nap times to plot her next assault.

On any given day, she manages to get herself into all kinds of trouble and hears these three commands ad nauseum:




In addition to doing all of the antics shown above, she has recently figured out how to open cabinet doors. We have spent many an hour trying to track down which cabinet she got herself into, using her loud “meeeeoooow!” as our beacon. Fortunately, I suppose, she has also now figured out how to open cabinet doors from inside.

And we can’t forget, because she won’t let us, all the times she jumps up on the island and tries to make herself at home.

Or when she lures Olivia into some out of the way spot and the puppy ends up getting stuck.

Or when she decides that climbing your bare leg is great fun.

Or when she sleeps on your pillow and in the middle of the night decides to rip a hank of your hair from your the roots no less, then leap down the bed to bite your toes.

Or when she walks all over our keyboards and screens we've never seen before appear or decides the mouse for David's laptop is the best play thing ever.

Or…, well, you get the idea. We have resorted to buying a large squirt bottle, filling it with water, and spraying her when she misbehaaves. Our aim has improved tremendously and depending on the day, hour, or minute, she appears quite drenched. But you know what makes her behavior all the more frustrating? When we reprimand her, she gets this look on her face – her eyes become little slits and she takes on this imperious tilt to her head – and for all the world you would believe she’s muttering, “Screw you” under her breath. I think I caught her practicing how to use her front toes to give us the feline version of the finger. Where she would have learned such things is beyond me.
So while Bronte may have the face of an angel while sleeping, I have become sorely tempted to keep her awake at all costs.
There’s no telling what she’ll dream up next to drive us crazy.

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