Lilly Has a Foot Fetish

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’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...

Cats are Weird...

Why are Some Cats so Weird? 

I mean...really? 

Lilly, our little tuxedo, freakazoid nutbag of a cat will be hauling ass through the kitchen, drifting around corners at break-neck speed towards the living room, to then abruptly stop, drop and lick her ass, or tail, or shin. 

It’s like an itch becomes an off button for her, inhibiting all movement for a much needed lick.  

When she’s done, she’ll look around, prick her ears, get all wild eyed and lurch into motion, leap over the chair, skid into the bedroom and jump on the bed to do one of two things; lay down or roll over the edge of the bed to bite her brothers head. 

True story.