Closet Redux

At the risk of sounding like an idiot given this story from not-so-many months ago, I came home tonight after a four-year train ride after a four-year wait to check out at Trader Joe's and ... no Glenwood at the door.  Timmy was there, but all I heard was a distant, small meow from the kitten.  I opened the hall closet.  Nope.  The linen closet.  Nope.  The bedroom closet.  Yup.  And, as before, utterly trashed.  And, as before, she walked out nonchalantly.  And, as before, she was utterly forgiving and just wanted some damn dinner.  And, as before, no pee, no poop, just a tantrum.

In fact, I was really, really lucky because, ironically, all the precious items that I put in the closet every night to protect from her antics were in there with her for 12 hours because I was too lazy to take them out this morning!  All my family pictures, some quite old and not replaceable, and not one loss.  Good kitty.

Glenwood Spends a Day in the Closet

Night and Day

For full disclosure, Glenwood's early-morning antics are infuriating.  Wouldn't it be ironic if I killed her in a fit of disrupted sleep after working so hard to save her?  Just to give an idea of what I do to prepare, below is an image of my daytime home followed by how it looks like before bed so as to limit the destruction and noise.

Daytime

Nighttime

So what does she do?  She jumps onto the top shelf or the black table 3821940 times a night, waking me up and prompting me to growl "Get DOWN" an equal number of times.  And this isn't the only place she wreaks havoc.  She jumps on my dresser and my desk, neither of which I can Glenwood-proof without having an unrealistic number of my belongings in a closet every night.  And that's not all:

Glenwood Gardens

Glenwood the Trash Collector

One Morning in the Life Of

At this point I'm sure I could offer a unique post most every morning I wake up with little Glenwood in my life.  First thing today, I saw she had selected Ibsen: Four Major Plays from my shelves.  She's apparently proud of her intellectual prowess since she opted to pose.  Timmy's reading has so far been limited to lying on newspapers.

Also this morning, I noticed her moving her belongings under the dresser.  This is new.  Unfortunately, her green pillow went into the trash shortly after, as she started to disembowel it and consume its innards.  (Her feral beginnings, if you recall.)  That's all I need ... a kitten with a belly full of polyester filling.  Ugh.

Meanwhile, Timmy.

Timmy was alpha to Riley's beta, though the two were neck-and-neck in terms of personality.  Riley was a little hostess, greeting newcomers at the door, throwing herself onto her back (literally: there was always a little sound effect when she landed) in front of me as I walked to command a scritch.  Timmy was Big Man on Campus, bullying her away from her food or a spot he wanted that she was occupying.

Timmy and Riley in My Loft, c. 2006

Timmy is more reactive to Glenwood.  Here, he has borrowed Glenwood's drawer but keeps a lookout.  This morning after breakfast, when she was at peak energy and unmaking the bed and he was in a postprandial droop, he took refuge on a windowsill behind a plant.

I wish I could say that the infection they shared is gone, but I'm not sure.  Timmy seems OK (though has teensy spots in his left ear) but Glenwood still produces ear goo and is scratching a bit, even as she finished her 14 days of Baytril.  I have a note to call Dr. Ryan.

Ike and Mike

Glenwood's ear does seem better and if it caused her any issues with balance, they're evidently cleared up.  Today she climbed a ladder in my closet.  Of course, I had a hunch about her climbing skills the day she spent 12 hours in there.

Timmy just can't bear it.  He is out cold.

Closer to Fine

Timmy's infection seems cleared up and he's done with Baytril; Glenwood has about ten days to go to make sure she's clean.  I kind of enjoy cleaning their little ears with Q-Tips.

Otherwise, all is normal in this abnormal household.  Look how weird they are.