Kittens. Why even are these kittens.

[commodorified]

As you may recall:

Senior Cat: Sovay. Calico. Rescue. Mildly psycho.

Junior Cat: Dreadful. Tuxedo. Diabetic, after a nasty bout of pancreatitis a few years ago. On a carefully restricted and timed diet.

Inevitably, they have a tumblr.

So.

We're currently feeding Sovay in my room, on top of my dressing table. This allows us to free-feed her, which is good as she's a nibbler, and Dreadful can't get to the dressing table so he can't steal her kibble.

EXCEPT Miss Sovay has taken to expressing her distaste for kibble which is insufficiently recent or otherwise does not meet her exacting standards by pushing her food plate off of the dressing table. (or, possibly, Dreads is paying her.)

And that is why I woke up in the middle of the night last night to the sight of the back half of Dreadful, protruding from the drawer where I keep my hair product, yowling pitiably and need of rescue.

Comments

[graydon]

A cat Dreadful's size in amongst the hair product does not seem especially auspicious, somehow.

I do hope there was no consequent requirement for a bath.