Wednesday evening I was making shortcake for my brother's Thursday birthday dinner strawberry shortcake dessert. All three cats were underfoot the whole time. Catnip is not one of the ingredients but you wouldn't know it from their interest. Yesterday morning I'm shelling shrimp for one of the entrees (shrimp in a bacon/garlic/butter sauce over linguini) and not a cat in sight. No cats when the crab legs come out of the refrigerator and into the pot, either. And yet, all three of them try to stick their entire heads into my glass of iced tea.
Last week Jasmine stole a corn cob out of the garbage and gave it to the kids. What is it with cats and carbs?
Last night, in the wee hours, they were all at my bedroom door, rattling the hinges and banging on the frame, little kitten paws scrabbling and scratching, reaching under the door itself and curling upward as if frantically searching for the latch. That was the third time they've attempted to break in. I half expect to hear the cat translation of "Here's Johnny!" one of these nights as they come smashing through.
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