Cat-astrophic

Our three cats are part of the family, but yesterday, I was thinking of sitting all of them next to the curb with a sign reading “Free to Good ANY Home”. 

Our new recliners already are showing signs of kitty claw punctures. Our youngest cat loves to tear down the hall, streak across the living room and leap to the back of a recliner. He’s got the timing down, rarely pulling this stunt when we are there to scold him. No, he waits until the early morning hours. It’s hard to sleep through the sound of his rampage, but by the time we get out of bed, he’s sitting sweetly by the window. “Who? Me?” his innocent expression asks.

I console myself with the knowledge that we didn’t purchase pricey chairs. That doesn’t go well with either pets or small children. Still, I’d hoped they’d keep that new perfection for just a little longer. We had a hard time finding the right table and, when we did, it wasn’t inexpensive. We squirted any cats who tried to jump up on it and thought we had won the battle. A small scratch mark made me suspicious that  this was only effective when we weren’t around. They’ve gotten even braver and yesterday, I caught all three of them strolling across the top.

I had to do it. Put them on the curb? No, I ordered stretch table covers. The kind with elastic bottoms that insure they don’t slip off the table. I wonder if they make those for recliners.