The other day, I had a kitchen disaster. The pasta bag blew out at the bottom instead of opening at the top. I got up all the noodles though. Except one. That one was found by Harry, who for a little while had more fun than anything batting it around the kitchen floor like a four-legged hockey star. Curiosity might not kill the cat, but it did kill the game. Eventually, he had to try to eat it, which didn't work too well. He didn't get sick or anything, but he broke his noodle. (The pasta one.) So I had to throw it out. Sic transit... I'll just have to get more noodles and throw them on the kitchen floor at random moments.
This morning, we may have had a great step forward. Harry was as usual bugging me at 5:30 or 6 in the morning either for more food or to be let out (I still can't make that parallel, or anyway not without sounding insane) and this time I declined. Amelia chased him off both times. I'd like to pretend that she was being sweet or defending me, but there's little doubt that she was being territorial. Still, it worked out well for me. She can be territorial all she want; the end result was still sweetness!
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