Breakfast break

I was up and working an hour earlier than usual today, thanks to Tig3.0, who is no longer happy being confined to my office. He yowled to be let out at five. Then again at six. Then again at 7:30, when I finally gave up and got up. I am just now able to have breakfast, at 10:30.

I have a new setup that makes Tig less noisy and annoying while I’m working. I leave the office door open, my bedroom door shut, and the bathroom door open. This has necessitated emptying the bathroom trash bin and making me realize I have to get one of those closed-top trash cans for the bathroom, as Tig has decided he likes all forms of papers, and is trying to fish out used tissues from the trash. And may I say: Ew.

I blocked the stairs with a large, cardboard trifold display that was eventually going to wind up with my school pictures on it. That, plus a standing dustpan to fill the corner is more than enough to keep a 12-week-old kitten from coming down the stairs. (Actually, he came halfway down the stairs—twice—while I ate breakfast, and this post was scheduled, so it remained unedited for a while.) He is currently running around like a mad thing from room to room, leaping in and out of the bathtub, yowling little kitten yowls of pleasure, sounding like a herd of cats instead of just the one kitten, and utterly confusing Gracie.

One result of the new setup seems to be that Tig wants to nap in my lap now. It’s cute, but annoying when I have to work, because either he makes my legs fall asleep, or I move and then he wakes up and decides to play, or launch himself onto my shoulder, where he then attacks my hair. He’s turning into quite the shoulder kitty. This is also not necessarily a good thing. If I’m sitting on the floor playing with him, he will sneak up behind me and launch himself onto my shoulder, and of course, claws must be involved to maintain balance.

Tig has learned the word “No” very well. Well, he knows what it means. That doesn’t mean he agrees with it. He’s not unlike most kids in that respect.

Suddenly, there is quiet upstairs. I think he’s sleeping. Of course, the minute I go upstairs he wakes up and hits Kitty Crazy Mode again, instantly.

Well, I’m getting less and less allergic to him. I think I’m going to give him the run of the house this weekend, except for my bedroom. It’s been suggested to me not to let him sleep in my room as a way to keep my allergies further in check. We’ll see if he lets me close the door on him. I really don’t like being awakened every hour on the hour from five o’clock on.