24 toes can cause a lot of trouble, especially when they’re connected the mind of a kitten.  I love Max dearly, but this living-with-a-kitten thing is new to me.  I’m used to staid, tired older cats who loll around most of the day.

Yesterday Max found the steel wool next to the kitchen sink while we were out running errands.  He doesn’t appear to have suffered any ill effects, but he sure did a number on that poor piece of now-discarded steel wool.

This morning I went to fill up my Camelbak water bottle, and couldn’t find the squishy little tip that you’re supposed to drink through.  After taking it out of the dishwasher, I had laid the three bottle pieces out on the first shelf of the upper kitchen cabinet to dry.  Ophy and Pippa have never touched anything in the cabinets (we don’t have cabinet doors), so I didn’t give it a second thought.  But, blech, I will from now on.  The squishy little drinking tip was under our oven, all covered in lint and yucky stuff.  Yuck yuck yuck.  To his credit, Max supervised and “helped” while I fished it out.

And yesterday morning, Max “helped” Jim scoop the litterboxes.  We use Feline Pine, and Jim sifts the used sawdust out into a bag for disposal.  As Jim was working, Max watched attentively…then pounced on the bag, sending an enormous puff of urine-laced sawdust up into Jim’s face.  (Once more, Jim proved what a great guy he is – mad as hops, but didn’t say a harsh word to little Max.)

So cute, but so troublesome.  Ah, little guy, what will we do with you?