I’M SLUMPED ON the couch, watching TV. The baby kitty is snoozing on my chest — not exactly asleep, but not exactly being a holy terror, either. I’m rubbing her side. She rolls over and grabs my hand in both forepaws. It’s a quiet moment, good for the blood pressure.
A half-hour later, she’s tearing around the place. I’m yelling at her to stop messing with that.
You know the terrible two’s? That’s a kitten.