I have a cat that loves feet.
Well, at least the things we put on our feet.
If you become a fly on the wall any random morning, you’ll hear me walking through the house asking where my sock is, or where my slipper is (she especially loves memory foam slippers.)
That being said...it’s 4:30 am. I’m awake.
Correction: we’re awake.
We’re awake because she is currently dragging one of Paul’s slippers- that is easily twice the size of her, around the bedroom.
Which means that as she has dragged it through the room, and under the bed, she has knocked it’s thick, plastic bottom against every box, storage bin and other cat under here (there are two other cats under here) and we are now awake.
Both of us.
One full hour before Paul has to be up for work.
Next, she will inevitably drag said slipper down the hall, clanging and banging all the way against chairs and the hard wood floor (possibly waking up our tenants downstairs) to the laundry room, or Paul’s office, where she will hide the slipper in either the dirty clothes pile or under Paul’s desk for apparent later molestation.
I caught her once in the act during the day before she got sneaky...