aefenglommung (aefenglommung) wrote,
aefenglommung
aefenglommung

All Boy

Deanne told me that while I was gone, "Lightning struck." By which she meant our little boy kitten, Lightning. We keep the kitties' food on a low table in the kitchen; if we didn't, Sassy would think we were keeping doggy treats handy and she'd Hoover them up. Anyway, Deanne was holding Lightning, who twisted around to see his food and water on the little table, a yard away and two feet down. He squirmed free and launched himself at the table, missed his intended landing spot next to the food dish, and upset the water bowl on his way to the window sill.

She also pointed out that his beautiful white fur was now a dirty grey underneath. Was he turning dark as he grew up? No, he'd been exploring the gas log in the fireplace. Which is how he managed to singe off his eyebrow whiskers, apparently. Time to turn off the pilot light for the season and put the shield back in front of the fireplace opening.

She suggested that we should have named him Mayhem.

Lightning at rest Lightning at rest
A rare moment

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