Spelunker seems to be teething the way a puppy would. It is quite disconcerting in a five month old cat. They can reach SO much higher than a puppy, even if it will grow into a great dane. It's NOT just shoes with them.
I noted with the longhair beige boy that he liked to curl up with an extremely ratty silk nighty he'd filched from the laundry pile once upon a time. I decided I needed to destroy it, anyway, and cat bed is better for it than rag bag. Wiping up spills with that type of fabric would surely be an exercise in futility, anyway.
Several times, I've noted Spelunker sleeping contentedly on it, but NOT on top of the washer, its former resting place. He curled up beside the kitty litter. One wonders about his NOSE, no?
Yesterday, he was all involved with something I could not identify under the bed. I'd call, he'd come, accept minimal petting, then return to the mystery object under the bed. Finally, he drug it out far enough to be within reach... It was the ratty pink nighty with the dirty, torn fringe. I fished it out with my foot and returned it to the utility room floor.
Later, near bed time, I came padding through the aisle between hallway door and bathroom door, barefoot, heading toward the shower. Spelunker trapped my ankle in his sheathed paws, hugging it. I reached down to pet him, then took another step forward. I nearly yelped. I'd stepped on the nightgown, off balance, and my knee started to give out. Plopping down on the foot of the bed, I retrieved the nightgown and returned it to the utility room.
I showered, then fell gratefully into bed. My nose twitched. I sniffed, but could not identify what I was smelling. I hear a rustling in the walk in closet with a light. I really, really don't want to get up again. My whole right side is reacting to the rock tossing I'd done to fill the hole at the end of the driveway, even though it was such a minimal amount.
Sniff, sniff, rustle, rustle.
Cat and nighty are both rolling around in the closet. Back it goes to the utility room. I think about putting it on the "to be laundered" pile, but decide to toss it in tomorrow (today) when I wash the jeans. Not like the fabric will be irreparably damaged, or anything. If he's going to cart it around the house with him, I don't want to smell it. I won't let him chew on so many things, it is better to let him pick his own toys. He doesn't like anything I've devised for him near as well.
Maybe the Kentucky Fried chicken tub I ripped the bottom out of and taught him to crawl through. He rolls that around the end of the hall, diving into it and chewing happily on the other end before exiting. Boughten toys just don't smell right, perhaps. His other one he drags around is the livestock whip. It had been to many a horse show, so could very well have an eau de horse whiffiness to a sensitive enough nose.
He's drawn to the sound of ice cascading to the floor when he deliberately dumps my ice water, but does not even bat at the cat toy ball with the bell inside. As irritating as that noise can get, I ought to be thankful he wants to play with silent things.