I’m sitting at my computer, praying for inspiration to come to me, when I hear scuffling, and notice a little white paw curling up under my door.

One of the cats is trying to get into my room.

Generally, the cats don’t come into my living area. It’s not that I have an aversion to cats, per se, it’s more that I don’t like that they do to my clothing/shoes/electronics/papers/instruments/anything else they can knock over or otherwise destroy. It’s a matter of economics, really. A lack of property damage trumps love.

I live with two cats right now, Koda and Morely. As lovely as these animals are, they are eccentric little buggers. These cats have decided to destroy this house, and be warned, they take no prisoners.

First, it starts with the “playing.” At all hours of the day and night, it sounds like a herd of stampeding elephants has been let loose in the house. For animals that are supposed to be light on their feet, and weigh less than 20 pounds combined, I still haven’t figured out how they manage to make such a ruckus. I swear they’re wearing my Doc Martens when I’m not looking.

Next, we have the two little monsters launching themselves at closed doors. Though wily, they have yet to figure out the round handle. It’s the only thing keeping them out at this point. They go down to the end of the hall, then, with their little elephant footsteps, take a flying run at my threshold, launch, and bound against my door. It’s more than a little unnerving when you’re not expecting it.

Especially at 3 a.m.

Although a little ashamed to say that I have been bested in this arena by a house pet, I will say that those cats have nearly had me hanging from the ceiling with their antics.

And, of course, when they do manage to get past my shoddy defences, there’s the thievery. Yes, thievery. Anything small enough to fit in their furry little mouths gets snatched. Koda is the worst for it, but Morely’s learning fast. Just earlier I found him trotting around the house with three pieces of Kleenex trailing behind him.

They also have a fixation with ear plugs. I guess the wax tastes good. Every time that I catch one of the two of them in my room, they’re after an earplug left on my side table. They stare at you innocently as they sneak closer, closer… and then nip the bit of foam and run away with it in their happy little mouths. I question their taste in goods to steal, but find it inconvenient, nonetheless.

So, looking at that tiny paw coming under the door, I remember why I’m not opening it; it’s the last portal to the great untouched, pet-free world.

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