The thing about cats is that you could have thirty of them and never end up with two that were alike. They are all unique little butterflies with personalities and opinions and a general ability to be total and complete jerks.
Like this one.
It's not just that she thinks my kitchen counters are her personal resting ground, it's that she does it right next to the water bottle I spray her with when I catch her there. She could teach the honey badger a thing or two about how to not care.
Kiara is a jerk. A fluffy, cuddly, perfect little jerk.
Ali could not possibly be any different. I can stare at her from twenty miles away and she will quit what she's doing. What's that? I thought about telling her to stop something? She's going to go into hiding for a week as penance. I don't have to tell her. She self-punishes just fine, thank you very much.
The thing about the hiding is that I'm not kidding. She really does hide for days on end. AND SHE TAKES THINGS WITH HER.
Lots of things.
In the past six months, she has stolen two of Alexis' shoes, a camera memory card, my ID card for work, at least one Monster High Doll head (Yes, just the head. Don't ask.). That's just the things that I know about.
I know about them, but I can't find them. I have torn the house apart from top to bottom and still, no clue. NONE. ZERO. ZIP. ZILCH.
You guys, I have cleaned in an attempt to figure out where her stash is this time.
I say "this time" because she has always done this. She has always stolen things and created her own special hoarding spot. I've always been able to find her stash, though. Until now. This time she has upped her game and I have no freakin' clue. NONE.
So if you happen to have one right black Old Navy flip-flop in a toddler size 12, a Draculara head, and an extra SD card, let me know. I might need to try trick Ali into thinking I found her stash so that she will show me where it really is.