Well folks, I write to you tonight from a mental state of frazzled delirium. I have a 6" tall, furry, purring animal in my home now and let me tell you that she has NOT been the companion I'd anticipated. Not a bad pet, but just....well, how do i describe her? She's...original. Her favorite game has been "use Jordan as a jungle-gym".
People, I'm here to say that claws and human flesh were never intended to co-exist in the way that Missy has forced upon me. And I will also say that no other animal or human being for that matter has tested my sanctification like she has. I have screamed at her as she's dug her claws into my behind and hung freely. I have literally had to pray for forgiveness for losing my temper over this animal. I'm sleep deprived and scared constantly.
BUT HERE'S THE LATEST game she's invented. "Treasure Hunter". Today I walk into my kitchen and Missy is having one of usual hyper-active spells. In the midst of her big trouncing party she ran full-speed and skidded into her litter box like a toddler at the beach. She has decided that this green and gray box in the laundry room is not only a place to take a dump but it is a two-for-one sand box/treasure digging station. Missy was playing in her litter box when lo-and-behold she found a "treasure". A little nugget of fun. She scoops it up with her front paws, flings it out of the litter box and begins pushing it all over the kitchen like a mouse toy. I get her pooper-scooper and take it away from her, putting it in the trash. Didn't dampen her spirits. She hopped right back into the litter box and got herself another "treasure" and the game continued. Yall, I am one exhausted mama. Pray for me.