The kitten is smarter than me. Way smarter.
Okay, I have a confession to make about Hank and his adorable little splint. He wore it for a couple of hours Friday, and then I gave him a couple-hour break, as per standard orthopedic advice. I put it back on him, and he pottered off behind the couch. Less than five minutes later, he pottered back around the other side of the couch. Sans splint.
I went to find it and reapply it, and it was nowhere to be found. Absolutely nowhere. thejtrain and I turned the whole freaking house upside down all stinking weekend. No kitty splint anywhere. I even took a flashlight and looked down an air vent that has a broken spot in the cover, in case he could have hidden it there. No dice.
Fast forward to this morning, when I was shoving furniture around and bumped Claudia's elevated dish thingy about a foot. I looked down, and there was...the freaking splint. I looked under that thing, like three or four times. The only thing I can figure is it was off to the side outside line of sight, and if I'd bothered to pick the thing up (like we did the couches and chairs) I'd have found it right away. It's the theory I'm running with, anyway, as the alternative involves the cat not only being enough smarter than me to successfully hide the thing for 3 days, but then being devious and sadistic enough to plant it someplace obvious to make me think I'm losing my mind. I just can't cope with the idea of living in an anthropomorphic production of Gaslight, so I'm just gonna go with the "Tamara's an idiot" school of thought.
We're submitting this shot to the Daily Kitten. I think he should also be put on Cute Overload, myself.
Believe it or not, he climbed up and got himself into that position.
Dolly remains unconvinced Hank can take a nap without her assistance.
I went to find it and reapply it, and it was nowhere to be found. Absolutely nowhere. thejtrain and I turned the whole freaking house upside down all stinking weekend. No kitty splint anywhere. I even took a flashlight and looked down an air vent that has a broken spot in the cover, in case he could have hidden it there. No dice.
Fast forward to this morning, when I was shoving furniture around and bumped Claudia's elevated dish thingy about a foot. I looked down, and there was...the freaking splint. I looked under that thing, like three or four times. The only thing I can figure is it was off to the side outside line of sight, and if I'd bothered to pick the thing up (like we did the couches and chairs) I'd have found it right away. It's the theory I'm running with, anyway, as the alternative involves the cat not only being enough smarter than me to successfully hide the thing for 3 days, but then being devious and sadistic enough to plant it someplace obvious to make me think I'm losing my mind. I just can't cope with the idea of living in an anthropomorphic production of Gaslight, so I'm just gonna go with the "Tamara's an idiot" school of thought.
We're submitting this shot to the Daily Kitten. I think he should also be put on Cute Overload, myself.
Believe it or not, he climbed up and got himself into that position.
Dolly remains unconvinced Hank can take a nap without her assistance.