Learning Curve

She has been in the house for just over one week. I am not imagining things; her feet have doubled in size. This evening she cornered Reserve Cat in the front flowerbed and my hostas will never be the same.

(Reserve Cat was pretty cheesed off, too. No matter how often he slaps her, she keeps coming back for more and it’s getting to him. Jean Valjean couldn't look more hunted).


She is a smart little girl and the upside is that she is almost housebroken and has learned not to bite the big male human in the Achilles tendon. The downside is that she has figured out, among other things, how to throw herself against the front screen door until it pops open.


Also, if she smells good things coming from the computer desk where one of the humans is enjoying a snack and focusing on that strange big silver thing, she now knows that she can stand up and put her paws on the plate that is peeping so temptingly over the edge of the desk, causing it to assume the more spectacular characteristics of a lever, a trebuchet, or possibly a Napoleon six-pounder loaded with grapeshot.


Particularly if the snack is something like beanie-weenies.