Always read the fine print
Yesterday was the usual: a doctor’s appointment (this time for me, woohoo!), dinner out with my Baby Girl, then a little shopping. Jayde-Rhiannon wanted to take her bargain-shopping queen-of-a-mamma to Marshalls. After two hours and a basket full of treasures, we were done. No, I am not going to divulge the total. Jackson has yet to see the receipt, but every item was necessary, and we saved a lot of money. Of course, during our shopping escapade, we could not forget our furbabies. Jayde and I were so excited to find a cute little scratching post for our feline zoo. Especially, since the seven-foot tower in our living room, the corner of our custom-made sofa, and a few door frames are not merely sufficient to sharpen the tiny daggers on their adorable paws. Every day with the Jackson Pride is an adventure. For the most part, all of them are cute, fluffy extensions of our family, and we spoil them whenever we can.
Every cat was enthralled with the new toy. After witnessing their enthusiasm, I told Jackson, “I should have bought two .” Even our most timid feline diva, Carnie, was enchanted by the newest addition to their kitty palace—otherwise known as our home. After further observation, I instructed Jackson to find the matching piece for our little darling’s playground. In our home, there are not many things that are off-limits to our furbabies. However, when certain items are present, every member of the pride spontaneously becomes a creative little genius. For example, we have learned to never leave a box of Entenmann’s Raspberry Danish out on the counter overnight. By morning, the empty box will be lying on the kitchen floor while our little angels sleep peacefully, with full bellies. Leaving us with no idea as to what happened to the box of danish, which resembles a lion’s toy—used and discarded. The same applies to any type of bread; their preference is potato rolls. Our furbabies are so intelligent that they can transform anything into a cat toy. The only requirement is that the item must be left sitting on a table or counter, bathroom or kitchen, it makes no difference to them. Also, while in play, the item must fit under our stove. I never know what treasures I will find during my weekly cleaning.
One of my recent projects is reorganizing my shoe collection. Yes, I said collection. Hi, I am Kellie, and I am a shoe addict. In all fairness, I am a product of my Aunt Sharon's making. The numbers hover in the low triple digits. On the record, that is all I am willing to disclose. Now, thankfully, unlike dogs, our cats are not much for shoes. However, they do seem to target Jackson’s footwear when they need to expel a furball. Anyways, back to the organizing part. I have some boxes neatly stacked in the corner of our bedroom. In the craziness of the last several weeks, the stack has remained untouched—until this morning. After being awakened around 7 A.M. by most of the pride racing up and down the hall, like a herd of elephants running from a mouse, I drifted back to sleep, not giving much thought to the cause of the stampede. Until about 9:30, when I heard an odd rustling sound that would not stop...even after I threw a pillow in the general direction of the strange noise. Somewhere between the stampede and the rustling, I also heard a crash. I could distinguish that no glass or ceramic was broken in the crash—therefore, there was no need to disturb my slumber by immediately investigating. Now wide awake, I turned on the light to discover the source of the unfamiliar sound. Only to find three of our feline ninjas in the middle of my fallen tower of shoe boxes, rolling around in the papers that once protected my precious collection. All giving me a look as if to say, “What, we didn’t do anything?!?” While they continued to frolick in my pile of shoes.
One of my recent projects is reorganizing my shoe collection. Yes, I said collection. Hi, I am Kellie, and I am a shoe addict. In all fairness, I am a product of my Aunt Sharon's making. The numbers hover in the low triple digits. On the record, that is all I am willing to disclose. Now, thankfully, unlike dogs, our cats are not much for shoes. However, they do seem to target Jackson’s footwear when they need to expel a furball. Anyways, back to the organizing part. I have some boxes neatly stacked in the corner of our bedroom. In the craziness of the last several weeks, the stack has remained untouched—until this morning. After being awakened around 7 A.M. by most of the pride racing up and down the hall, like a herd of elephants running from a mouse, I drifted back to sleep, not giving much thought to the cause of the stampede. Until about 9:30, when I heard an odd rustling sound that would not stop...even after I threw a pillow in the general direction of the strange noise. Somewhere between the stampede and the rustling, I also heard a crash. I could distinguish that no glass or ceramic was broken in the crash—therefore, there was no need to disturb my slumber by immediately investigating. Now wide awake, I turned on the light to discover the source of the unfamiliar sound. Only to find three of our feline ninjas in the middle of my fallen tower of shoe boxes, rolling around in the papers that once protected my precious collection. All giving me a look as if to say, “What, we didn’t do anything?!?” While they continued to frolick in my pile of shoes.
The offending item
For those unfortunate not to have cats or have never dealt with Catnip, it is that oh-so-pleasant herb that lulls cats into a state of serenity before transforming them into a bunch of little ninja assholes. The name Catnip is a gross misrepresentation of what the green, flaky substance actually is. The “harmless” herb should be named Kitty Crack!
No cats were harmed in the making of this story. As for my shoes, well…
The moral of this story—ALWAYS read the fine print.
No cats were harmed in the making of this story. As for my shoes, well…
The moral of this story—ALWAYS read the fine print.
When a ninja crashes from kitty crack
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