It has almost been a year since we brought our cat, Kevin, home with us. He’s nothing special, just a grey tabby from the farm, but we’ve grown pretty fond of him.
We constantly catch him on the countertops, on the end tables, or in the cupboards (yep, he opens them up and climbs right in), but the best place (or the worst) so far has been in our vents. Not only did he figure out how to get the vent covers up from the floor, but he decided to crawl down in the air ducts and travel from room to room. Once we confirmed how he was getting into our bedroom, even when the door was closed, my husband screwed the vent covers down. Kevin mourned over them for days. There must’ve been something wonderful in there – I still catch him pawing at them.
Recently he started licking away the butter from the covered butter dish, which now I’m forced to store in the cupboard or risk losing another entire stick
Lately he meows all. night. long. and makes tons of noise while having late-night shenanigans. Maybe it’s God’s way of preparing us to have crying babies someday. We already take turns getting up in the middle of the night to
shut him up take care of him. Maybe he needs a girlfriend. We'll see.
ALL DAY (which explains his middle-of-the-night adventures).
He has an infatuation with the wash machine and dryer.