Friday, June 29, 2012


At about 3:00 AM, Reynaldo decided it was time for me to wake up. He began knocking everything off the dresser and so I locked him and his makeshift litterbox out into the hall.

This morning I opened the bedroom door to find litter all over the hall. OK, so he buried a bit over enthusiastically. He's a cat. Allowances must be made.

Then I saw how he knocked all the picture frames off the bookshelf. Fine. He was bored.

And found the cereal boxes on the kitchen floor. GRRR!

AND A BIG HOLE IN THE WALL, caused by him pulling down the drapes.

He turned 8 in April. This is not kitten behavior. This is Reynaldo.

He is eating my hairbrush as I write this.

Remember that scene in The Miracle Worker where Annie tries to teach Helen table manners and the dining room is destroyed in the process? I feel like Rey and I are starring in our own low-rate dinner theater production.

Oh, well. He is in my life to teach me patience. He is my responsibility and I would never give him back or give him away. I must figure out how we can live together peacefully for the remainder of our lives.

And who I will leave his care to in my will, as obviously he will be the death of me.