Catblogging

I woke up this morning to find that my furnace was not working properly. Again! This time, it cycled on, and even produced heat, but it would only run for 20-30 seconds before shutting off. So, I went to work for a few hours, came home, and called the repair guys.

This is the third time the same two guys have been to my apartment to fix stuff. Last time, Pandora sneaked into the furnace while they weren’t looking. This time, they were wise to her stealthy ways and averted her attempts to explore. The also both took time to pick her up and pet her, which was nice. She’s an awfully gregarious cat, so she really enjoys the extra attention.

She also spent some time playing with the dog’s toys (she has a death wish), including a tennis ball. Pandora rolled around on the floor with the ball between her front paws, kicking it mightily with her back feet. When she’d finally subdued the ball, she lay on her side and wrapped herself around it, then gave it a good wash. Clearly, she was feeling her oats this morning.

The antics reached a climax when she stole a wadded up piece of paper from the trash can in the studio. She knows she’s not supposed to take paper[1]. So I told her to drop it, and she took off running through the house like a bat out of hell, paper wad crammed firmly in her thieving little mouth. Now, I’ve been lured into the occasional ill advised and unintentional game of keep away by dogs, but never, ever, EVAR by a cat.

So what did she do when I caught up with her? She dropped the paper wad and instantly started to wash herself furiously. Like she had no idea that she’d just stolen the damned thing, nor that she’d flown the scene of the crime, nor that the evidence had just two seconds previously been in her mouth, and was now lying rightnexttoher. “I’m sorry, were you talking to me?”

Pandora has always been a bad, bad seed. The photo below was taken in 1996, at about the time when she developed her paper/cloth fetish. Note the pure eeevil emanating from her.

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[1] We–Pandora and I–have discussed her paper/cloth fetish on numerous occasions. I don’t mind so much that she’s a rotten little thief, but when she carries paper wads through the house, she meows. Because her mouth is stuffed full of paper, it’s difficult to tell whether she’s on a murderous rampage or she’s going to hork up a hairball. O ick. I can’t stand the sound, so I do my best to keep mouth-sized pieces of paper and cloth out of her reach.