Our little Dash is quite the character. I think it's reasonable to assume every living thing has its quirks. Dash is no exception. For only being four months old, he has already chalked up quite a list of Dash-isms. For example, he uses the litter box standing up. Yes, you read that right - he stands to pee. At first, we thought he was just exploring the litter box; looking over the side. Then we noticed, he does his business that way. Our granddaughter got a real kick out of witnessing that.
Another one of his funny habits is that he covers his empty food dish with whatever he can find, from an imaginary cover to a nearby napkin. I was forewarned of another one of his habits - he loves to play "ice cube hockey." Whenever we use the ice maker in the fridge, no matter where he is, he comes flying over and sits in wait for an ice cube to be thrown his way. He's got some impressive hockey moves, I might add.
Then, there are the funny little habits that have the potential to do him - or me - in. He loves to grab tails - anybody's. That includes his own and Jack's. I have rescued him a few times from the consequences of grabbing Jack's tail while he's eating. It's just so tempting there, waving in the air, just begging to be chomped on or whacked by a kitten paw. That Jack does not enjoy being disturbed while he eats means nothing to our intrepid tiny warrior. As for how he might be the end of me - well that has to do with the number of near heart attacks I get on a daily basis from things crashing to the floor.
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| Moments before, he actually had that tail in his little paw... |
I'm not sure how many more heart-stopping moments my ticker can take before it just stops permanently. I counted at least four episodes yesterday brought on by a sudden crash or other disturbing sound. If I had a dollar for every time I jumped up and ran around the house expecting to see Dash buried under debris, I could hire a cat sitter for this little nutball. This went on up until midnight.
Dash was a little terror yesterday. First of all, he really wanted to bug Fancy. To his credit, Fancy held back and didn't retaliate. He actually moved around to try to avoid an incursion. I kept telling Dash he really picked the wrong guy to harass. I finally had to put him in timeout - mainly to protect him because I wasn't sure how far his much bigger brother could be tested.
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| I don't care how big you are, you're not getting my food! |
After his timeout, Dash seemed to have forgotten about bugging Fancy. He turned his attention to bugging me instead. This was accomplished by periodically, and with no warning, crashing various objects down to the tile floor. I heard so many odd sounds yesterday, I'm sure my neurons are fired up for a good long while. Lumosity would approve.
Each time there was a crash, my heart would skip a beat. I mean, it was like being at Halloween Horror Nights! A stainless steel cat dish, with food, went flying off the countertop. Then something was happening in the dining room I never could figure out. It sounded like the table was coming apart. This is a Pennsylvania Dutch solid oak table that has survived thirty five years of kids' art projects and family dinners - but is going to meet its demise by a three pound ball of fur! The coup de grace came at around midnight, right after Dash got his eighteenth wind. I heard what can only be described as china crashing onto tile.
I was the last one to reach the dining room - everyone else beat me to it. I honestly thought he had figured out how to open the hutch and was lobbing crystal and china to the floor. What he had done was knock the hamster supplies off the table. Nothing was broken, thankfully, but he was sitting there looking at me like, "What? I don't know how that happened."
Dash then made a near fatal move. He decided to screw with Fancy - again. I was down on my knees picking stuff up off the floor, and happened to look up just as Fancy was getting ready to bop the stuffing out of him. I could hardly blame him - I mean Dash had been at him all day. I gasped and yelled; Fancy stopped in mid-bop and a crisis was averted. Dash just sat there blinking at him. I'm sure I heard Fancy mutter something under his breath about Dash getting what's coming to him when the old lady's back is turned.
I've changed my mind about him being part cat, ferret and monkey. I think he is actually a Gremlin. I'm afraid to expose him to bright lights, get him wet or feed him after midnight.
I'm joking. This little guy was sent by the Guardian Angel of Couch Potatoes and Lost Causes to get me off my butt. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger - right?
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| My granddaughter's favorite shirt! |
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