Kitty Telepathy

My brother (a different brother than the brother who lost Muffy last week) has a white cat, Harry. They live in Oakland, California. Harry cannot be left alone with toilet paper. One of the features of my brother's apartment is its aesthetically pleasing hiding spot for toilet paper.

Harry must have sent a kitty message to Glenwood yesterday, who up to then had no interest in toilet paper. All in the Family? When Harry Met Glenwood? I think all the bleach is getting to me.
Glenwood meows a lot at this point, and it's now an adolescent meow, which is more forceful than a kitty meow. She also has a yell-meow that she hurls when I don't jump fast enough. She wants out, and it's harder and harder to foil her. She also wants my lap when I'm in. When I have the audacity to be in the bathroom doing other things than holding her, she stalks me ... jumping on me, pawing at my hair, using my legs as a scratching post. It is very sweet how she loves being held, especially given her origins (see Glenwood's First Home post), and a joy to hold her, hear her boisterous purr, and see her gazing up at me (with one little fang outside her mouth and one in).