Mews from beyond

Bee-bee, the once very small, now very naughty kitten who is living with us is starting to terrorize the house. His little triangle tail is growing longer, and with it his propensity for extreme badness.

This morning, I went downstairs to get my coffee, and shuffled to the fridge to put cream in it. It was dark, I often do this only by the refrigerator light. I took my mug upstairs and stood desperately over the pile of articles and chapters I have to read for a paper due on Monday, and after a few minutes, I heard kitty screaming.

I figured that one of our cats was getting extremely tired of being outside in the cold drizzle we're having this morning, but they don't usually scream so insistently. I ran downstairs, I realized it was the kitten (who knows, in Crisfield's mouth, maybe?) and wrenched open the fridge door to see little black paws crinkling the tin foil covering last night's Burek.

Bad thing.

I grabbed him and voiced my displeasure. He struggled and, when I put him down, danced his little kitten dance of glee - skittering around the kitchen on his cold little feets.



(Tonight - Nosferatu with original orchestral score at the Michigan, Sarah & Mark. Tomorrow - crown molding, pumpkin carving, and Erebus)