To get some peace whilst eating dinner, we shut the kitten in the bathroom last night (Sir Edmund Hillary has nothing on this little beast).
As we were getting ready to sit down, the Little Man walked over to the bathroom door and head-butted it open. Brian thought it was funny.
I repeated the experiment this afternoon to see if it was a fluke. It wasn't.
We're doomed. Doomed, I say.
2 comments:
A boy needs to see his little lady friend to make sure she is ok. Yes, you are doomed.
Our cat was called Eddie, after Sir Edmund, himself. We'd find him on top of the China closet, sitting on the ridgepole of the barn, you name it. Sister lived in a house that had a "three corner" stairway. The cat would leap from the floor to the first landing, rather than bother with the steps. So plebian, y'know.
We got him when she started using a wheelchair, because her husband couldn't handle Lynn, who had ALS, and the cat.
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