Sometimes, the boys quietly curl up with us when we go to bed, and are still there when we wake up in the morning. And then there's last night...
It all started innocently enough. I heard the unmistakable clatter of toenails on wood and went down to investigate. Billy was sitting next to the front door, Whitey was sitting in the living room. "Is there a problem officer?" Watching over the railing, though, I saw Whitey launch himself at his brother. Cat fu ensued.
Nothing wrong with midnight cat fu. But later we had the mournful meowing. And the toilet paper roll used as scratching post in the dead of night. And more mournful meowing after we closed the bathroom door. And then the exuberant door-dart when we opened the bathroom door sometime after dawn.
No doubt it will be morning naptime soon. Unfortunately the human staff has to earn our daily kibble and won't be joining them. YAWN.
Update: We just went downstairs and discovered Whitey (who had been mournfully meowing again) standing on top of the refrigerator. He stuck his head over the edge, chirped, and head-butted Drew's hand. He's not allowed up there, but we were both laughing too hard to chase him down. Perfect end to a perfect morning.
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