It has been a while since I posted about Milo's ability to get into trouble. His latest thing is a big disdain for anything clean. Everyday we go through this little routine. I grab the sponge to wipe off the kitchen table and he goes into attack mode. I don't know why, but wiping off the table really ticks him off. He comes flying into the kitchen (how can he hear me wiping the table?) jumps on one of the kitchen chairs and just barely peeks his eyes up to table level (ears flattened so the evil sponge will not see him). Every wipe that comes within range is a swat. Sometimes he gets so excited he thinks that he can get the sponge from underneath the table (duh). As soon as I turn around, he jumps up on the table and lays all over it. Yummy. This happens every single day. No exceptions. The sponge must die!

My boyfriend's mother gave me a night-blooming jasmine tree in a huge pot. (About 2 feet across). Well as I was not sure whether or not it was harmful, and because I KNEW he would dig in it, I put it in the back hall until spring comes around and we can move it outside to the porch. As you guys know, his favorite haunt is the basement and the day we brought the plant home, he dashed downstairs to the basement skidded to a halt and said "A new plant! For me! Thanks guys!" (I heard him swear) Proceeds to dig every bit of dirt out of it. Replace dirt and try to watch cat. His white paws are a beautiful shade of well, mud. He doesn't clean them either, wears them like a boy scout badge-all over the house.

So this goes on for a week. He runs past the plant on the way to the basement, but wait...he's faking me out because he knows that I am watching him. As soon as he thinks I have gone back into the kitchen I see (I am just as sneaky as him) a little pointy ear and a little kitty eye barely peeking around the corner. When he thinks he is unobserved he runs to the plant and digs and digs and digs. Well, I have a brilliant idea. Put tinfoil around the plant. WRONG! Now he jumps on top of the tinfoil and climbs this little tree (which in no way can support his weight) and bats around the top two or three leaves. As soon as I step out the back door and say "What are you doing?" He freezes and just looks at me. The picture is priceless.

So we move the plant up to the attic. He knows it is up there. Tried to jam his head under the crack of the door sniffing for it. He was pretty depressed though. Looked out the back door and say him lying where the plant was, with his head on the first step. Totally dejected. Sorry boy.

Copyright © Jennifer T. Luck
March 3, 1998