If you know me at all, you know that my cat is crazy.
You've heard me complain about a lost night's sleep, or you've heard her screaming like her tail's on fire while we're on the phone. Or maybe you've had the pleasure of meeting her for your very own self. No matter -- you know she's crazy. In fact, our downstairs neighbors moved out today, after just a few months, and I can't help but think that it's in no small part due to Savannah. She's the kind of upstairs neighbor that can make you break a lease.
Now let me qualify this all by saying that when she is sweet -- she is so very, very sweet. And cute. She can make you forget that just five hours before, she ran laps around the bedroom at 4 a.m. bellowing at the top of her kitty-cat lungs, clearly being chased by an invisible kitty-cat demon hell-bent on ripping her little kitty-cat self apart, limb-by-spotted-limb.
It's part of her evil genius.
In the ongoing quest to satisfy and subdue the 12-year-old Savannah, this weekend we purchased the third in a venerable line of Krieger-Campbell-owned feline cat trees. Our last 2 apartments held such cat trees, and honestly, I'm not sure why we didn't do this sooner. Laziness, no doubt. You see -- she L-O-V-E loves these trees. She races up and down them with wild abandon, sharpening her nails and strengthening her resolve. These trees are the best she could ask for, being a persecuted indoor captive of two cruel indoor parents. Plus, now, maybe she misses Noah, and needs a little extra love. Just maybe.
Anyway, the mailman knocked bright and early on Saturday and I put the tree together, pronto. The funny thing is -- I think Savannah thinks this is the same tree she used to have, as she immediately raced up it like a long-lost piece of talon-loving furniture.
Next she yelled at it, proclaiming: Where the hell have you been for the last two years?
Then she roughed it up a bit. I mean, it deserved it. Bad cat tree! Being gone for two years!
Then she embraced it, forgiving all sins.
Finally, she asked for some alone time to make-up with the tree.
It's a love story, really!
You've heard me complain about a lost night's sleep, or you've heard her screaming like her tail's on fire while we're on the phone. Or maybe you've had the pleasure of meeting her for your very own self. No matter -- you know she's crazy. In fact, our downstairs neighbors moved out today, after just a few months, and I can't help but think that it's in no small part due to Savannah. She's the kind of upstairs neighbor that can make you break a lease.
Now let me qualify this all by saying that when she is sweet -- she is so very, very sweet. And cute. She can make you forget that just five hours before, she ran laps around the bedroom at 4 a.m. bellowing at the top of her kitty-cat lungs, clearly being chased by an invisible kitty-cat demon hell-bent on ripping her little kitty-cat self apart, limb-by-spotted-limb.
It's part of her evil genius.
In the ongoing quest to satisfy and subdue the 12-year-old Savannah, this weekend we purchased the third in a venerable line of Krieger-Campbell-owned feline cat trees. Our last 2 apartments held such cat trees, and honestly, I'm not sure why we didn't do this sooner. Laziness, no doubt. You see -- she L-O-V-E loves these trees. She races up and down them with wild abandon, sharpening her nails and strengthening her resolve. These trees are the best she could ask for, being a persecuted indoor captive of two cruel indoor parents. Plus, now, maybe she misses Noah, and needs a little extra love. Just maybe.
Anyway, the mailman knocked bright and early on Saturday and I put the tree together, pronto. The funny thing is -- I think Savannah thinks this is the same tree she used to have, as she immediately raced up it like a long-lost piece of talon-loving furniture.
Next she yelled at it, proclaiming: Where the hell have you been for the last two years?
Then she roughed it up a bit. I mean, it deserved it. Bad cat tree! Being gone for two years!
Then she embraced it, forgiving all sins.
Finally, she asked for some alone time to make-up with the tree.
It's a love story, really!
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