Every morning when I leave for work I issue simple instructions to the boys. "Be good and don't destroy the house", I tell them.
They make soft observant mewling sounds in reply. Then as I get ready to back out of the driveway they stand like sentries on the two red chairs and watch me leave through the front window. As soon as the car leaves the driveway all bets are off. One leans over the the other with a suggestion for activities. "Brother, what if we climb the curtains?" "Boring", says the other one. "But if we climb this set of curtains we can leap off from there and land on top of the potted palm!" "Now you're talking!", the other furry
wrecking ball declares. And the latest wave of destruction begins. And to think I came up with the idea of getting a second kitten
so the first kitten wouldn't get bored and destroy the house. What was I thinking?!!? I've effectively doubled the capacity for demonic feline activity. Of course, all of this is just speculation. I don't speak that weird Eeking language they favour. So I can't actually prove they are plotting. They could be talking about Rob Ford for all I know. "I don't trust him brother, he sweats a lot and strokes his face like a cat according to this Toronto Life article." "He's a cat all right - a polecat!" the other replies. Then they laugh in that bizarre" Eeking" fashion. Cat humour. I don't understand that either. xxx dad
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