The Life of Cat Ownership

So, Hamlet is very intelligent. Too intelligent for his own good most of the time. For instance, we cannot let pots and pans soak in the sink unattended because Hamlet will see them as tasty watering holes. And we usually know he's up to no good out of sight by hearing him, specifically his name tag, clanking against said watering hole. But another of his favorite games to play is "Climb Mommy's Closet."

This is a game where he will attempt to leap onto the top shelf of my closet any time the door is open. No matter where he is in the house, he'll hear the door slide open, bolt in, and start thinking about how best to get up there. He has managed this on more than a few occasions, most impressively after jumping over my shoulders from the night stand and landing with a soft thud on my folded pile of sweatshirts. He also knows how to open the doors, and can let himself in to play around with my hamper and yoga bag. We know he is opening the door because we'll hear him pawing at it, which is pretty loud as the door rattles in its track.

Tonight, though, his logic was tested. I heard him banging around in the bedroom, and knew he was attempting to open the closet door. It went on for a while, then John and I got annoyed enough that I went to investigate. Now, John is currently in the office, where his closet is, and I was (and am) in the living room. I was slightly confused when I went into the bedroom and flipped on the light, and saw no kitten. If he was banging at John's closet, he would have chased the little furball away. So I opened my closet and found my hamper had been knocked over, and Hammy had gotten into the closet, closed the door, and couldn't figure out how to open it again from the inside to get out... ::forehead slap:: Oy.

And now he is howling because he drank soapy pasta dish water, and probably has a belly ache. Happy Wednesday, all!