Monday, February 11, 2013

What It's Like to Live Here

I'm at the kitchen table, working on the computer. Gus is sitting on the kitchen table as well, about four inches away. It is critical that he stay close so he can periodically lean in to gnaw on the corner of the laptop. Or, he may need to stand on the keyboard after using the litterbox, so he can waft poop air at me while sending garbled tweets.

Tonight, I have put my flavorless, chewed-up gum on top of my notebook on the kitchen table, as I could not possibly walk 3.25 steps to the garbage can. With laser focus, Gus identifies the gum as his new toy, batting it around the table like a tiny soccer ball. Eventually, he spears the balled-up gum with his claw, looking very pleased with his catch. But when the gum invariably sticks to him, he panics and starts wildly flinging his paw in the air. The gum flies off his paw and sails in a high arc into the livingroom. Where it disappears, possibly forever, or until we move and I find it embedded in the rug.

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