I had a cat for 18 years. My daughter was a preteen and “had” to have a pet. I had a few dogs when I was growing up, never a cat. I didn’t not like cats,, but never wanted one. We lived in a three story condo. Me, in my pessimistic thinking saw me as the one walking up and down the three stories taking this puppy out for bathroom breaks, walks, scenery and all of the other needs dogs have. The cat won by default. She picked out a scrawny, dirty, crusty eyed mewing loudly thing. That cat did  clean up nicely and  as I suspected, the cat was mine after the first two weeks. For not wanting or really liking cats much, she grew on me. A lot. The last few years she was alive she was old, sick, and didn’t get around very well. I didn’t have the heart to put her down. Wanted her to pass on naturally. Couldn’t wait until I could be animal free. She finally became sick enough that I had to put her down. Within two days, I wanted another cat.

I now have two cats. They came with the boxes. And Tutivillus. I like them. They had been here one week, when I told him, if you ever leave ,the cats stay.

Jak likes string. He jumps, licks, bites and tries to swing at it. I will sometime play with him with it. It is a fun game. I tire of this game, Jak doesn’t. Last night, I played with the string before going to bed.  I then put the string down. As I was drifting off to sleep, I heard crash, bang, slurp. And more slurps. Jak had the string. I got up, put the string away. The rest of the night, I was stalked. Jak stared, paced, knocked objects off the dresser, jumped up, then off the bed. Repeat.

Today. The string is his.