We have been gone a week. Arriving home tomorrow. Oreo managed to get out every single night. Fortunately, he can get himself back in the yard. If I don't kill him, I'll but him so hard he'll wish I would. His tracker should run out of juice any time, relieving us of worry our last night out.
I thought changing back to the water fountain would stop Max from knocking over their water.
No, now he noses off the top of the fountain and unseats the basin inside. More annoyingly, he's taught Milo -- the good, angelic kitty -- to do it as well. He's corrupted his brother.
Probably just going to have to FlexSeal the damn thing closed. He does it because he wants to play, but I can't play with him at fucking midnight when the rest of the family is sleeping. He sounds like a horse galloping up and down the halls.
I told him off and I swear, he sassed me right back. He's a moody teenager in a cat body!
My husband just found this under the bed!
This cat is a bird murderer. Not a hint of shame on his face.
Bad Jasper.