Ivan the Terrible

No more great home updates that I can post yet (although several have been completed, or nearly completed--bedroom updates, living room rearrangement, new furniture assembled, and that lantern from Anthropologie FINALLY came after being lost in the mail for 3 weeks...thanks UPS...) so I figure I will update about Ivan.

So.

I took Ivan to the vet two weeks ago for a deworming treatment, and found out that he is (according to their best educated guesses--mainly the fact that his molars are coming in) now actually nearing four months old. We had our suspicions, especially since he pretty much doubled in size in only two weeks. We assume that proper nutrition has had something to do with that. His eyesight also improved dramatically in that first week, and he gained a lot of energy.

A LOT of energy.

He will typically spend two-thirds of the day racing around, pouncing on things, and generally tiring himself out so that he can then sleep for the remaining third of the day. I know that this is typical kitten behavior. I understand and appreciate this. However, it becomes far less easy to appreciate at 11:30 pm when I am grading papers and trying to finish reading Beowulf before I go to bed so that I can get up at 6:30 am and teach classes in the morning. Here's how last night went:

Me: [grading papers and recording scores in the living room.]

[Josh: in bed. zzzzzzzzzz...]

Ivan: [running across the backs of the couches at full speed. falls off the back of the couch and lands on top of my stack of papers. scrambles around with a crazed look in his eyes and bites the papers. (forgot to mention that he is currently teething--molars, you know...)]

Me: Ivan, no! [remove Ivan to the floor and bop his nose.]

Ivan: [crazed look. leaps back up onto the couch and lays across my score sheets belly up, claws out.]

Me: Ivan, not a good time. [remove Ivan to the floor again, but not before he gnaws on my hand.] Ivan, no. [bop nose.]

Ivan: [crazed look. takes three laps around the apartment. pounces on yarn ball.]

Me: [resume grading.]

[5 minutes later. noise coming from the blinds by the front window. Ivan has rapidly leapt on top of the computer tower that sits on the floor up to the windowsill, and then up on top of the air conditioning unit which houses three potted plants. he has never been up there before.]

Me: [get up. walk to desk to retrieve cat.] Ivan, no! [retrieve cat. bop nose. set cat on floor. sit back down to grade.]

[immediate repetition of noise by the blinds. Ivan is already back up on the air conditioner.]

Me: Ivan, NO! [attempt to retrieve cat from air conditioner.]

Ivan: [reaches out both front paws to resist. hooks on to "Water Magic" fern plant.]

Plant: Alas! Alack! [falls over onto desk, spilling water all over my school papers.]

Handouts/grading rubrics/folders/resource binders/electronics in the crate on the floor: Sog. [drip.]

Me: [angry silence and disbelief. locate spray bottle. squirt cat in face.] No. [lock cat in bathroom/hallway. begin cleaning up mess.]

Air Conditioner: [turns on.]

Me: You know, you really are not helping right now. [realize I am talking to an inanimate object. turn off air conditioner. clean off desk. scatter papers throughout the room to dry. attempt to dry off wet electronics. finish grading papers. decide it is time to go to bed.]

[end scene.]

Don't get me wrong, he can be extremely cuddly and loveable, especially when he does that face-nuzzle head-butt thing while he's purring... The problem right now seems to be that he's 1) a kitten, and 2) one of the more social cats I've encountered. When I'm done teaching and am home during the day, or even when I'm getting ready to leave in the morning, he follows me around like a shadow. He hates being locked out of any room where people are. He usually cries outside our bedroom door for a few minutes each night (one night, we tried letting him in to sleep with us--EPIC FAIL. Little sleep was had by all.). All of this is very sweet and endearing, but his level of sociality combined with the fact that he is a kitten means that he seems to view most everything that Josh and I do as a game. Cleaning up stuff around the apartment? Game. Walking to his food dish to feed him? Totally a game. Feet were made for pouncing on. Folding laundry? BEST GAME EVER. We are trying to correct his understanding of this (he has learned for the most part that it is not okay to attack our laptops, especially while we are using them) via nose bops and a spray bottle. But it is a long and tiring process.

I really am looking forward to when he is older and a bit less active. And no, he's not really terrible, he's just a kitten. He can't help it much.

In other news, the laundry ghosts have redoubled their efforts. Thus, you will have to wait until we can make some serious headway on that front to see pictures of how awesome our bedroom is now.

Ta.

A.