Six Word Story

Atop underwear thrown, she reigns supreme.

This is pretty typical 'round these parts. Greg and I can't do laundry at our house without the kitties interrupting our work, wallowing in our clothing, contaminating every surface with little, orange hairs. They see the laundry basket as their own personal playground. Lani will purr and purr while she rolls and stretches and buries herself in the mounds of fresh, clean clothes. If we shed a jacket or sweater and throw it across the couch, she makes a B-line, perches herself on top and has a nice, little nap. Usually we can't bring ourselves to disturb her slumber because we know it makes her so happy. So we just have to wait until she wakes up and is distracted enough to leave her haven unattended before we snatch it up, shake it out and hide it away.


Gomez, on the other hand, prefers the dirty clothes because he is a filthy, filthy beast. :)
The closest I've seen him to reaching nirvana is when he finds my sweaty post-run work-out clothes on the bathroom floor, collapses on them, and proceeds to rub the stink all over his body. I know this is just his instinct to make himself as gross as possible, but it simultaneously entertains and repulses Greg and I when we stumble upon him in the throes of ecstasy. One side of me wants to snatch the offending garment away in horror, and the other side feels compelled to silently tiptoe out of the room and leave him to his business. It feels like a distinctly private moment, if you know what I mean. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.

Ok, I'll say no more.