Hello Dear Readers,
Chilly again today. The wind tried to strip our tree naked last night, but it clung to its leaves like a modest Victorian, which mercifully postponed my rake date until Tuesday. Future me can deal with that. Thanks, future me.
Artemis, however, is fully present-tense. She’s officially comfortable with us—which apparently means my desk is now her personal jungle gym. Her favorite hobby? Attempted cable cuisine. I spent the morning gently relocating her from “forbidden spaghetti” (charging cords) and explaining that our insurances does not cover kitten teeth.
To redirect the tiny gremlin energy, I introduced Fetch 101 with the toy mouse. Reader, she nailed it. I tossed; she sprinted; she returned it about a dozen times, tail high like a victory flag. Then I threw it a little too far into the hallway—aka The Unknown—and she sensibly declared, “Nope.” Game over.
Naturally I filmed her athletic triumph and sent it to the family chat. My niece swooned; a friend dubbed her a “puppy cat.” Accurate. During rounds two and three, she sometimes looped back just out of arm’s reach, clearly negotiating for better treat terms. Eventually she’d park under my chair—her safe zone—so I could snag the mouse and relaunch.
She’s getting cozy in my office but remains cautious about the rest of the house. No stairs yet. Kittens are like Wi-Fi: great in one room, mysteriously weak everywhere else. We’re patient. She’ll make the upstairs leap when she’s ready.
New habit: every time I stand up, I hear a bell and turn to find Artemis installed on my chair like a small, purring CEO. She’s not big on being picked up, so I bribe—sorry, “redirect”—with the mouse. Works like a charm, and my chair survives another coup.
All in all, 10/10 day with the “puppy cat.” We’ll see if she wants a rematch tomorrow—preferably with fewer attempts to eat electricity.