This moment should have told me all I ever needed to know about this cat:

 Three Cat leading the way in checking out the area outside the box.  And her brother Four Cat was right behind her.

Three Cat became Lady, and Four Cat became Tarzan — the two kittens we kept from the litter of four Roxy presented us with while she sheltered with us until she found a more suitable home.

Lady.  The kitten that arrived two and a half hours after her two older brothers was born and just fifteen minutes before her little brother was born.  She’s the smallest of the four, but don’t let that fool you.  She’s scrappy (as hubby found out when she shredded his arm when one of the dogs walked up to him while he was holding her).

If that picture wasn’t hint enough, this should have sealed the deal:

You guessed it.  That’s Lady falling off the top of the box.  She’d been hanging there for what seemed like a good thirty seconds — it took me that long to get the camera fired up.

Nothing deters this cat.  She’s adventurous, curious beyond belief, and not afraid to test her boundaries.

She loves cloth and cleaning cloths in particular.  Sponges, stainless steel pot scrubbers, towels, socks, dusters…you name it, this cat hauls it around the house.  I’d just taken a fresh kitchen towel out of the drawer yesterday and either hung it on the oven handle or left it on the kitchen counter.  I looked for it a couple of hours later and could find it nowhere.  I began to suspect Lady had taken it upstairs.  I got another towel out of the drawer and went about my business.  Sure enough, when we went up to bed, the towel was in the bedroom doorway.

I have a bookmark I prefer to keep on my monitor — my friend Tammy Jones made it to commemorate the release of her book, Threads of Malice. (Awesome book but not for the squeamish.)  Lady prefers to bring it to me upstairs.  I’ve brought it downstairs several times, but I keep finding it in bed. (Yes, I’m thankful her preference seems to be inanimate objects for now — I don’t really want to think about the other things she might bring to bed with her if she has the chance.)

The kittens bring their toys upstairs during the night and downstairs during the day.  They aren’t supposed to be on the table, the kitchen counter, or leaping at the windows.  I repeatedly catch them trying to get into things I’ve put on the counter (yesterday, it was a package of bake sale brownies I brought home, and today is was hamburger I’d put out to thaw).  They have brought numerous items that were on the counter upstairs to the bedroom.

I can only say it’s a good thing I chose not to have children.  If I can’t teach two seven pound balls of fur any better manners than this, I’d hate to think what children would have been like.  But, like real children, who can resist them when they are asleep?

But I have to wonder if maybe hubby isn’t right — maybe Siamese are just the smarter cats (it’s not that they don’t get onto the counter, they just know better than to do it when you will catch them).

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