Cats

Both my mother fucking sneaky adorable BASTARD plotting, but let me reiterate ADORABLE, so I let them hang out with me, cats escaped out a crawl space in my bathroom this morning.  You might think this is my fault for not securing the crawl space before bringing the kitties home.  Well.  You’re wrong.  Everyone knows cats are a little bit evil, so it’s their fault.  Anyway.  This really pissed me off.  Actually, it nearly gave me a heart attack and made me do that girl panic cry thing we do.  But basically, I was not a happy camper. OBVS.

So I got down next to the crawl space in my mini bathroom with my head sandwiched between the wall and the toilet and did the “here kitty, kitty” thing.   Louie came right out purring when I called his name cause he’s like that.  Steve just hung out down there for like AN HOUR while I canvassed the neighborhood CERTAIN that he must’ve gotten out somehow since I couldn’t see or hear him.  I eventually realized that unless Steve had some awesome super powers I was unaware of (which I wouldn’t have totally been surprised by) there was literally no way for him to get out from under the building short of digging a tunnel.  So, I got this broken toy of his that used to be one of those fishing pole toys with a feather boa and bell on one end, but he totally destroyed it.  It is now half a plastic stick with a bell on a knotted string.  I dangled this contraption outside the crawl space for about 10 seconds and he hopped right out. I shoulda thought of it earlier.  Its his favorite toy. Sigh.