Summer isn’t the best time for lap cats. I sure miss my jeans right about now, because Marie was trying to nestle on my lap, something scared her and she sprung off my skin, avec claws.
Also unpleasant is the chewing of legs of furniture in the bedroom by a cat (Sally). It’s surprisingly loud which equals annoying. I threw a couple of pieces of clothing but they didn’t land close enough to scare her and I finally had to get out of bed and shoo the furry offender away.
OK, I’m awake (NOW).
Other things have been victims of cat chewing: Sally’s favourite armchair near the window. The arm closest to the window has little bite marks all over it.
Mulan, while she might be a great warrior and Disney princess figurehead, was no match for Sally’s penchant for vinyl voluptuousness. Chewing was mostly concentrated on the arms. And I just remembered that back when they were kittens Marie cost me a new charger for my Macbook due to chewing.
What’s with the chewing on the arms and legs of things? What a primal and animalistic thing to do.
I don’t remember our first cat chewing on anything other than her own toys and even they stayed in mint condition.
Maybe it’s because this time around we have two of them and it’s a sibling rivalry thing.