The Big Cat only vaguely remembers the rules for training wild animals neatly assembled in The Life of Pi. #1. Make direct eye contact #2 Never turn your back on the wild animal #3 Establish territory. Or something like that. I'm not sure kittens are trainable anyway - but I persist. Making direct eye contact I yell at Rooney, "get out of that plant!!!" And then for good measure, I squirt him. He just looks back at me using all his devious powers of kitten cuteness, somehow making his eyes bigger and moister - but maybe that's the spray bottle -and seems to say, Why?, Big Cat Why?
I'm sure Sigfried and Roy went through this many times and would probably counsel
old-fashioned teutonic persistence - I'm thinking a skin-tight spandex suit and a German accent would lend more authority to my commands. Still, I try in vain to school them not to jump on the kitchen counters, not to rip the leaves off all my houseplants, not to chew on electrical cords - wait - there's a pattern here. Everything involves "not" doing something. Perhaps, if I tried to get them to do something instead? Perfect.
Tonight we'll start with jumping through a flaming hoop - off the kitchen counter.
That ought to challenge the little fur faces. xxx dad
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