I can stand the toy-dunking and subsequent setting of toys onto my body parts, in my lap, on my pillow, etc. I don't mind the scooping up of the cotton balls out of my cosmetics basket, so that the condo floor is strewn with stringy bodies when I come home from work. I kind of like the need to be fricking undetachable from my right shoulder (and of course the associated need for me to support a fat furry butt) at all times. I actually love the constant trilling instead of meowing, like a normal cat.
We've been in this war over scratching the furniture for a few weeks now. He knows which furniture he can scratch. I know this because he only does the Bad Scratching when he wants my attention -- unfortunately, today that means EVERY SINGLE MINUTE.
The punishment for Bad Scratching is banishment to the bedroom with the door closed, because I can't think what else to do: yelling, hitting, anger, no way -- squirting with a spray bottle, he would love -- so, ai, what.
He's already been banished today five times. The first two times, he ran from me when I tried to catch him, and then cried like a baby until I let him out. The third time, he ran a little bit, but he seemed to be having fun with it, and then he didn't cry at all. The fourth time, he crouched there and let me pick him up, and when I went to rescue him, he was looking out the bedroom window, and seemed surprised to see me. The fifth time... that's it, I'm DONE. Pwned by a cat, livejournal.
This time, the minute I turned around at his scratching, he scampered off into the bedroom himself, and waited for me to come and close the door.
I don't know. I closed it. I think that's what he wanted, and I.... DAMMIT.
In other news, you can find my website with the search string "nothing but the biggest asses." GOOD TO KNOW.