Yesterday he ate my lunch.
It was one of those classic midday meals where the Momma's food has long gone cold when she gets to eat, and someone beat me to it.
Who knew a kitten would love pumpernickel bagel
so very much?
He roams the kitchen counter, lounges in the sink,
prowls the stove, and investigates the ironing board.
And every time he jumps on the dining room table
in the middle of a meal, he manages to look shocked
when he's dumped onto the floor.
He continues to press the question of "Is he persistent,
or is he mentally challenged?"
I wonder if he realizes that cuteness is a finite state,
not a perpetual one. Eventually, he will not be a kitten,
he will just be a very naughty cat.