Hi, Burrell!
I had to go make dinner, and then play with this DARNED CAT TOY. It's this fluffy purple ball with a bell hanging off a stick by some red elastic string. I had hidden it, because I was so very tired of playing with it. It is April's, by far, most beloved toy. She has found it, and she has made up for her lack of getting to play with it for three months WITH A VENGEANCE. We played with it for 6 hours last Saturday! 6! 3 hours last Sunday. At least an hour and a half every day of the week. 2 hours yesterday. An hour tonight. I have developed such hate for this toy. My arms just might fall off after waving it around one more time. And I can't escape it. She watches it like a hawk, so I can't hide it again. She sleeps on top of it. And when she thinks I need something to do, she follows me around with it, holding the stick in her mouth and dragging the little ball thing behind her. And she just talks, incessantly, both to it and about it to me. I really dislike this toy. It has turned my sweetheart lap kitten into a holy terror. Between this darned toy and Jossey's "funny" new habit of biting my Achilles tendon when I least suspect, I might have to rethink my position on cats.
Of course, I look up after writing this diatribe against them to see that they have both come to curl up at my feet, April with her beloved toy, and Jossey with yesterday's left sock clutched to his face, and they are happily purring and drifting towards a nap. Darn them for being so cute.