Kitty, Kitty

Everyone loves the kitty cat.  She's basically a celebrity in our household, which she handles rather well.  She is chased, petted, held, entertained, mawled, fed, stalked, and generally loved to death every minute of every day.  And while I would totally cave under the pressure of constant juvenile paparazzi, Twig handles herself with dignity and honor by not scratching the eyes out of the children when she's feeling overwhelmed.  She deserves a gold medal.

When she needs her space, she hides under my bed and sleeps.  When she's ready to play, she attacks our feet as we walk by.  When she's ready to cuddle, she climbs onto my chest, purrs loudly, and rubs her face on my neck.

Twig has grown a ton.  She's not the little waddly furball she was when we first got her.  She can jump almost anywhere, which prompted me to place the spray bottle within reach.  No cats on the counters or tables, please!  She loves anything in a box or bag, which she'll readily attack.  She also likes being in a box or a bag to hide from the five predators in the house.

The other day she "caught" her first mouse--with a little help from me and Mariah.  I happened to see a mouse run into one of the kids' rain boots outside one afternoon.  Mariah and I grabbed Twig, took her out into the lawn, and dumped the mouse in front of her.  She started playing with it immediately and proceeded to maul it to death after an hour of pestering, chasing, batting, biting, and squishing.  Kinda gross, I know.  But it was an interesting thing to watch.  I have a new theory that most cats don't catch a mouse and kill it right away like a mountain lion would do to its prey.  I think most cats probably kill the mouse by playing with it to death.  Poor things.

This new adventure with Twig has been a lot of fun for us, despite my resentment of kitty litter, kitty smells, and kitty scratching.  We're working out the bumps in all of these areas, which will hopefully lead to a less-dirty, non-smelly way of life for us all.