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