Bless Their Little Hairballs
The cats, bless their hairballs … er hearts, have been doing thier best to keep me entertained and occupied in Mel’s absense (This is an older picture, by the way, Jasmine is full grown now).
Jordan, our older cat, has always been the sensitive type. She focuses her efforts on making sure that I am never stationary in the house without a warm body next to, on, or sometimes under me. Frankly, she’s more attentive than my wife in this respect. The attention is decidedly less satisfying, however.
Jasmine, on the other hand, focuses her energy on providing an endless stream of entertainment. Her repetoire of tricks includes such crowd pleasers as knocking over full glasses of water from the nightstand onto the bed, running around the house with tampons in her mouth like little cigars playing “catch me if you can”, and eating various colorful ribons and other household items to ensure that her vomit on the new carpet is as visually appealing as possible. She’s an artist really.
Every morning at about 4:00 am Jasmine decides that it is play time. She begins by playing leapfrog on the bed with Jordan. She follows this up with a tail chase; her own or jordans, it doesn’t matter which. Jordan responds with my best interests and begins to swat her and hiss and growl. I know what she is saying at the top of her kitty lungs is something like, “HEY! DAD IS TRYING TO SLEEP! STOP THAT!”
After cleaning up the vomit and collecting stray tampons there is little left for me to do but brew some coffee and grudginly face the day. If they didn’t have so much fur I might consider eating them (the cats … not the tampons).
Come home, Mel!