Literally crap. Because one of the big differences between cats and dogs is that with cats, you don't have to buy a bunch of expensive cat toys. You can simply give them paper bags, ripped paper, twisty ties, water bottle caps, strings, and so much more, and they will go bananas playing with them all. In fact, Winston is especially fond of twisty ties. Jenny, not so much. She sticks to her favorite stuffy toys like squirrel, turkey, red bone, blue bone, clam, and candy cane.
Jenny won't play with Winston's trash toys, but Winston will play with Jenny's stuffys, and that sometimes doesn't play well with Jenny. It's like watching an old Warner Brothers cartoon with Ralph Wolf and Sam Sheepdog clocking in for work, with Ralph trying to capture sheep, and Sam thwarting Ralph at every turn.
Jenny will chase Winston and bark at him when she wants to put him in his place, but most of the time they get along. And like a little kid, Winston is all over the place -- he's up on shelves, the table, the counters, the kitchen sink. Everywhere; literally the kitchen sink. I just caught him trying to climb one of our window screens again, too.
Sigh. The grand parenting positive irony here is that our teen kids, Beatrice and Bryce, are relatively neat, keeping their rooms clean, especially Bryce, which we're grateful for (we've taught them well). And Bryce is the one taking care of Winston, at least when they're not at school, cleaning his litter box and making sure he's fed. Part of her allowance comes from keeping both Winston and Jenny fed and ensuring they have fresh water.
However, we warned Bryce that the cat would keep them up at night, and sure enough, that's what happened. So, now Bryce shoves him outside at night, along with his litter box into the upstairs hallway, and the cat is a free range roamer in the wee hours of the morning. Beatrice is relatively safe all around, because Jenny always sleeps with us, and she's easy, and we close the door to our sun room that leads to Bea's room, so Winston can't get in there and cause a ruckus. Another irony here: we wake up to relative calm and no destruction that we can see. It's only after we're with Winston when he bounces off the walls.
Plus, when both our kids are at school, we work from home, and it's a battle of wits and wills to keep our friggin' cat as chilled out as possible so we can work. Which is impossible, because he's a cat, and he's everywhere all at once, until he naps. Not quite a kitten anymore, but definitely a young, curious, meddling cat. This morning while my wife Amy and I meditated, I could hear Winston in the kitchen sink rattling dishes looking for food, which he won't find since we now keep our kitchen cleaner than ever, and we always kept it clean pre-cat.
Squirt bottles and cat treats help, but mercy me, Winston's a handful. A lovingly sweet handful, like a young grandson climbing up the counter to get into the cookie jar. Thankfully his big sister, Jenny, keeps him in line sometimes, but most of the time is entertained (and annoyed) like the rest of us. And she's especially excited when Winston spills his food bowl on the floor so she can get her share of cat eats. Or, cat poop if we don't keep the litter box clean. Gross!
Reminds me of the quote from Ghostbusters, “Human sacrifice! Dogs and cats living together! Mass hysteria!” Yep, just like kids all over again.
