Every once in a while I foster a cat that absolutely exhausts me. Sherman seems to be one of those cats. He's 12 weeks old of undeniable cuteness. But "thars horns under those ears!"
cat den, but couldn't figure out how to use the kitty door to come back into the house. I went to bed as I always do, but sat straight up in bed around 1 am when I heard thunder and lightening. "What if the baby is outside in the cat den and can't get in??"
When I didn't find him in the cat den, my imagination went wild. "He must've found a way out of the cat den!" I woke up David.
My youngest son was still up, so we went outside in bare feet, robes and flashlights. David reluctantly got up and we're all outside shaking a bag of Temptation Treats and tip toeing around dog poop in the grass. David seems to be the only one with brains in the middle of the night and went back inside and found "The Sherminator" lounging around in the basement.
This guy is into everything! I've sent half-finished emails when Sherman stepped on "Enter". He climbs the screens, and eats bugs. Last night, he jumped on the dinner table, grabbed a piece of something off my son's place and ran with it.
Tomorrow I have a painting company coming in to paint the baseboards and hallways in my house. I tried to warn them about The Sherminator...
...they only smiled and nodded. They haven't met "The Sherminator". But they will. Oh yes, they will.