Cleaning the pig pens tonight. I left the patio door open, figuring the cats could use some fresh air.
We’ve never allowed the cats on the railing but as soon as I remembered I left three of them out there, I turned to see all of them on the railing. Tommy was mesmerized staring just slightly up to the lamp in front of him…and the moths.
He’s not a graceful guy. I heard his nails as he tried to catch them. This would not end well. That tard of mine is going to fall.
So I opened the door up wide and let a rather large moth in.
He immediately followed it and came back into the house without fuss. The girls were already inside ahead of him, dis-interested.
The chase went well, but that moth was a jerk. Everytime my boy had him cornered he would go to the overhead lighting in the kitchen while Tommy was left alone on top of the cabinets.
When I would get the moth down for him, it would fly into the dining room. Tommy would knock the baren pig dishes off the counter division. Eesh. Oh good they landed in the pen and not the floor.
The moth went back into the kitchen, and UP.
We have bottles on top of the fridge. Oh gosh. Way to go Tom, scaring the crap out of me and still no disaster.
The tension in me was countered by my giggling.
Tommy was on the cabinets again. Oh and we keep vases up there.
It fell. One of them. It took so many klinks on the way down I was convinced I’d be picking up glass.
Damned moth. No really – DAMNED.
My bub was still on top of the cabinets talking to it childishly and again that moth decided to evade in another ornery way.
When he landed on the top of the pantry wall, I saw Tom straining his neck around the corner above my head.
I had a towel still in my hand from working on the first pig pen and I swung it.
It landed, dazed. I picked it up by one wing and called Tom down to the top of the fridge. He didn’t know where it went and was still looking so I had to use his cat talk on him.
Here Tommy. Good boy. Look, you got it. He talked to it and took it down to the floor and did what cats do to tiny fluttering creatures.
He spent another 5 minutes talking to the kitchen if there were any more.
Now he’s playing with his Kong Kickeroo.
before you break any of my crap.
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