When I came home, Esme greeted me at the door. This seems to be a point of pride with her. She might be in deep and dream-filled sleep, but the moment she hears my car pull up, she trots to the kitchen and places herself in prime skritching position. Today, she was particularly sleepy eyed, but she mrrved and bounced in front of me as I made my way through the house. I mention this because I really can't quite wrap my head around how adorable she is. After I'd washed the dishes (yes, I'd a sinkful from the night before. I fail at housekeeping) and put away some laundry (sitting on the step stool near my closet for two days; see previous parentheses), I settled down to check my email and indulge my obsession with food blogs. Suddenly, I heard strange, kitty-ish sounds from the basement. Recalling the Great Mouse Caper of Aught Eight, I raced down the stairs. There was Esme, menacing her prey. Not a mouse, though. Oh, no. It was the missing box of multigrain crackers. She'd managed, best I can figure, to knock it off the counter, and in trying to get her wee head into the box, pushed it across the kitchen and then down the basement stairs.
I scooped up the box. She looked rather put out. Understandable, actually; she'd worked pretty damned hard for those crackers. I stomped up the stairs; she bounced past me, turning back around on her hind paws, whiskers forward and uttering tiny 'mew!'s. See what I mean? Adorable. I made an effort to sound stern as I scolded her. Eating people food is most decidedly not something I wish to encourage.
Three minutes later, she was curled up in my lap, purring and rubbing her head against my hand. So much for the hard-core approach. Ah, well. I'll just have to be more diligent about putting EVERYTHING well out of her reach.
In other kitty news, I said hello to the AFAN cats when I was in PetSmart today. There's the most delightful adult black shor thair who clearly just wanted to be petted. So very sweet. I know she'll be adopted. Then there was a young one, just about a year old, white with tabby markings, who only had three legs. She kept going after my fingers against the glass. Do you have any idea how much I want to form an army of irregular kitties? One-eyed, three-legged, one-eared... it's all good.