So, it’s been fun having a kitten who actually rules a lot. (read on) This guy has finally learned to take the spiral stairs by himself (though he usually opts to go around and take the ‘easy’ stairs), was well-behaved during camping (did not have to be leashed like past cats), and plays like all hell but almost never sticks a claw out.  (Most of my scratches are not from play, but from holding him in ways that make him dig his claws in for dear life….)  I also throw him on my shoulder and walk upstairs, pee, and walk downstairs with him still on my shoulder (that phase is about to end; he’s about 2 pounds now and pushing those limits).

In the kitchen, I tied a mouse (and another cat toy)  to the ceiling, so they swing around.  He attacks them, and they swing more.  It’s almost a perpetual motion machine (just add cat food for fuel).  There is a bar stool… which has a metal ring to put your feet on (like all bar stools?).  The ring has 5 spokes that go to the center of the chair.  Little Beavis tries to hide underneath (or climb on top of) the spokes, and jump out onto the swinging mouse.  Sometimes he hits the metal and you hear it clang, but you sure can’t tell from his expression whether it hurt or not. I think he just doesn’t care. “I will attack that mouse at ALL costs.”

One time he climbed awkwardly up to the spokes, tried to jump on the mouse, managed to flip, land on his back on the ring, fall down, and land on his back on the metal leg. It looked like it really hurt, but it was hilarious. And he was up on 0.2 seconds chasing the mouse again like it never happened.

Ahh, kids.  I remember jumping down an entire flight of stairs into a beanbag chair.  Nowadays, I would probably rather pay $3,000 than do that.

Foozball

So, we finished watching the season premiere of Smallville. (That dam scene was bullshit, and B was defeated way too easily!)  And I wanted to watch Curb Your Enthusiasm S6E03, but I was getting a bit zombified from watching TV.

So I proposed a game of foosball to wake up.

We played, and Beavis came up and joined us. So we closed the door.

At some point, we put little Beavis on the foosball table itself.  I started ‘attacking’ him with the fooz-men.  He would step over, and I would turn them so that they poke into him.  Then slide the men left and right, shoving him left and right.  He would try to walk away, but then I would just move the next foosball man, and so on.

He didn’t like it, but he also didn’t hate it enough to jump off the table!

So then I put him at the top of our very highest shelf. Wayyyy too far for him to jump down. He was, in effect, trapped.  Then we played our game.   He had no choice to watch. And 75% of the times I looked up, he was transfixed on the foosball, staring it down.

Finally, after out game, we put little Beavis on the foosball table again.

But this time, we dumped all 5 foosballs on the table.

I started knocking them around.

Beavis started chasing the foosballs.   I’ve never had a foosball-playing cat!

I experimented with shooting the foosballs at him.  I increased the intensity until it was hard enough that I would think it hurts, but he didn’t seem to mind.

I also made at least 2 “goals” by shooting the foosball OVER his tail.

And Beavis himself made 1 goal by swatting a foosball back into the other goal.

He did not like it when the balls went into the goal. When the last one went down, he shoved his arms down the goal in a futile attempt to try to retrieve the balls.

Even with just 1 ball, he would just play and play and play.

Finally, we got antsy to watch the show (it was 12:15AM or so) , and had to pry the cat off the table — he would have kept playing foosball with himself for quite some time if we’d let him.

We’ll have to play again…