The Benefits of a Walnut Sized Brain

Our kitten is a baby. At ten months old she knows two words; ‘Kimber’ and ‘treat’. She gets scared when she’s alone in a room, and now she’s a dumpster diver. Yes, she likes to tip over the garbage cans and rummage through whatever she finds, but still I forget she’s a baby.

It started in the bathroom. Twice a day we’d find it tipped over. Q-tips and cotton balls spread all over. A couple times we even found her sleeping with the top half of her body inside the can itself. So we started employing the standard options for behavior modification, redirecting with new toys, then the squirt bottle, and finally a swat on the butt. Without a doubt, we have succeeded in making her afraid to enter the bathroom.

Unfortunately, there are other garbage cans in the house. Her newest favorite is in my Wife’s office. She did it yesterday, and she got a swat. Then she did it again today, and today was not the best day to test my patience. I flipped. I called her name and she ran into the bedroom under the bed. I tried desperately to reach her under there, all the while wishing we had a smaller bed. Finally she fled to the closet hoping I wouldn’t notice. There she was trapped. This frightened little kitten, huddled in the darkest corner of the closet, made not a sound as I crawled back on all fours and picked her up by the back of her neck. I carried her into the office, stuck her head in the wastebasket and gave her a few swats. If only I had remembered, she’s just a baby.

Upon release she ran back under the bed, the only safe place in the house. It took me about ten minutes tops to finish getting ready for work. I went downstairs and put on my coat. I glanced over and saw her sitting at the bottom of the stairs, well within arm’s reach. She looked up, and gave a single quiet little meow. At that moment, I would have given just about anything to know what she said.

I’m sorry.
You’re a big fat stupid.
I won’t go in the closet ever again.
I wanna go back to the pound.
The garbage isn’t any fun when you’re watching.
Why are you so fucking cranky in the morning?
Please don’t leave.

I knelt down to say I was sorry, and she ran a few steps towards the basement. Then she turned and looked at me. I made that kissy noise which apparently is the universal word for “I’m not trying to kill you anymore”. She walked back up to me, and when I picked her up, she immediately started to purr. I hope she doesn’t remember this morning as long as I will.