Kitten Electronics Edition

Did you know that HDMI stands for Highly Delicious Munchable Interconnect? Well, Ming did.

So far, his score is 1 HDMI cable, 2 Apple charging cables, one extension cord, and he’s working on the soon-to-replaced power cord for the kitchen lights. Not mention the random tooth marks on the power cord to Squeaky’s cat bed. He did, as mentioned previously, disconnect the internet router, but he only yanked that one out; he didn’t eat it.

Pepper juice seems to be no deterrent, but catching him in the act and blasting him with the water pistol works. Also, it’s fun.

No Room at the Scorpion Inn

Mingo and I had just had an interesting interaction where I was determined to comb the mats out of his tail and he was equally determined to not let me. I had to scruff him, which he hates, and instead of a nice soothing brush I had to use the grooming comb and work fast because Bitey Bitey McBiteCat.

So we weren’t speaking.

I retired to my little old lady armchair to check for blood and he crouched in a corner and stared at the floor. Fine, I thought, go sulk. Then I saw he was poking at a twig on the floor with his nose and jumping back.

Oops.

It was raining and sometimes when it rains or even when it doesn’t, two-inch brown scorpions get into the house. Normally, they are sessile and flat and shaped like a forked twig, easily killed by the cowardly human. (No, I don’t have a picture and no, I’m not going to ‘rescue’ the thing and usher it outside. They’re icky and they sting. Also the hair all over my body stands up in horror when I see one. You wanna save the big bug, you get over here and do it.)

This one, however, was not sessile and not flat. Its sting was curled up over its back and both claws were snapping at Ming, who dodged and kept coming. I suppose, from its point of view, it had discovered a warm, dry, spot and was taking a stroll when it suffered an unprovoked attack by a furry and annoying monster. I can empathize with that viewpoint. So can my other two cats, come to think.

Anyway, I’m yelling, “Ming, get away! Stop that!” as if he’s going to pay attention all of a sudden. I’d never seen a scorpion so active and while I corralled Ming, it might scurry away and hide somewhere. In the house. Where I don’t know where it is. Ick.

I did grab Ming, who was totally pissed off to have his fun interrupted, and tossed him in the back room. Then I slammed a ceramic coaster on the scorpion. End of coaster, end of scorpion. Mingo spent the rest of the evening returning to the spot, hoping his neat toy had come back.

Do I have to say I had a glass of wine? Probably not.

Belly Up To The Bar, Kitten!

Probably due to all the construction, the one place Mingo hadn’t climbed onto, jumped up on, or generally messed with has been the kitchen countertop, the bar behind it, and the stove. About two days ago, that changed.

No, he hasn’t set himself on fire. It’s still early days yet.

I’m making my usual pro-forma disciplinary noises: I yell, I grab him and drop him on the floor; I squirt him with the water pistol. Nothing, big surprise, has had much effect. Except one thing.

After a tremendous amount of indecision and second-guessing pre-construction, I decided to replace my tiled bar top behind the granite counter with a wood bar. It’s a beautiful piece, so beautiful that I moaned to the contractor: “I’ll probably kill the first person who sets a wet glass down on it.” The contractor said, “Won’t hurt it at all. Multiple coats of sealant. Trust me.”

It also has another property. You know those old westerns where the bartender fills a mug of beer and slides it the length of the bar to the gunslinger? Replace the beer mug with Ming, sliding on his ass with a surprised look on his face. Now, Ming is not a cat who is easily discouraged. He keeps trying. If he jumps from the floor directly onto the bar, he can’t land at all, too slick. If he jumps from the countertop to the bar he can’t stop.

I confess to a surge of joy as I watch him jump, slide, and FOOMP disappear over the edge like a magic trick. So he’s jumping onto the countertop and walking slowly onto the bar: any fast move and he’s gone. Of course, food prep on the countertop is now a battle and I can’t leave anything uncovered for more than 5 seconds but neatness is a virtue. I just wiped down the bar and checked it for scratches or scrapes. Not a mark on it.