superbadgirl | Oh, kitties.

Yesterday morning as I was getting ready for work, I hear the rustle of plastic. It was subtle, but recognizable. I have cats who like to hide in the bathtub, or perched on the ledge between liner and curtain. I drew back the curtain and found Johnny in the tub, her little paws pressed against the plastic liner, searching for a way out. It was ... she looked like a non-freaky Marcel Marceau, trapped in a invisible box, silent. Poor thing. I chuckled and let her out.

This morning, it was Abe. Abe was not Marcel Marceau. He whined the whole time. I got my camera.

Tonight, I went to the kitchen to fetch dinner. Abe tore right after me, as he tends to do. I opened the refrigerator door and THUD! The silly thing ran right into it. While he huddled under the table to recover, I giggled through my food prep.

I'm having a long week. Thank goodness for ridiculous furry beasts.