Kitty’s first thunderstorm

Well, this is an interesting morning. I was woken at seven by piteous mews, which is about an hour earlier than I wanted to (or should have) gotten up. And now we’re experiencing kitty’s first thunderstorm. The closer thunder is bothering him, but not so much the rumbles from further off. Sigh. He has just leaped into my lap and is playing with my Star of David necklace. I moved it. No matter. There’s my entire lap to attack. There go my sweatpants. And now, my hair.

Yes, I am one giant cat toy at the moment. In fact, my entire office has turned into a cat toy. I am rediscovering the joys of moving things out of reach so that Tig can’t hurt himself or make a mess.

Gracie sulks downstairs most of the time. She came into bed at some point last night. I wonder if she’s going to do that after I let the kitten out of my office. He may have to stay here for more than a week, though. Half of my stairs are simple steps of wood with no backs. There’s a six-foot drop if you’re small enough to fit in between the steps, and Tig is small enough—and reckless enough—to fall through. I have to figure out how to make sure he doesn’t. Cat or no cat, he’d hurt himself falling from that height. Sarah suggested some kind of mesh along the railing, but that still leaves about ten steps. She also said, “Meryl, he’s a cat.” Yes, I know, but I get extremely paranoid about kittens. I did this when Tig and Gracie were young, too. I kept them in the bathroom for the first few days while I was at work, and I got it into my head that I’d left the toilet seat up and they were going to leap into it and drown. I tried to get a friend to go check on them, and he said, “Meryl, do you realize how crazy you sound?” He was right. He had a Maine Coon cat, too. Very friendly and laid back. So was Tommy, come to think of it.

Work is going to be interesting for the next few weeks. I may wind up going to the office out of sheer desperation.