I get home from being at a friend’s house, walk into my apartment and turn on the light. Kitten immediately accosts me with his pitiful meows and chases after my feet as I walk into the bedroom to kick off my shoes.
I walk back into the kitchen after changing into my pajamas only to find him ON TOP OF MY FRIDGE.
He knows better. Oh, does he ever know. He knows he’s not allowed on the counters AT ALL. Yeah, he’s a cat. He does what he wants. But he also knows that if he dares to set his cute little paws on the counter he’s going to be directly squirted in the face with a water bottle. As many times as it takes for him to get it.
He doesn’t particularly care for that.
So fast forward to tonight, he’s on top of my fridge, meowing frantically and looking a little lost. I immediately scoop him down and in no uncertain terms scold him (because he obvs knows what I’m saying).
I turn around to look at my laptop and immediately hear thump.
He’s back on the fridge again.
Back on the floor.
So now he’s sitting at the base of the fridge, meowing frantically and staring intently at the ceiling.
I finally get the thought that perhaps he’s meowing at something just in time to see a nice, big, black cockroach crawling across the wall in the kitchen. I jump up, grab my roach spray, move the things off the fridge, knock over a few bottles on the counter in the process, and spray the sh*t of the roach. It falls to the floor pitifully and tries to writhe away. I give it one last good spray and look up, expecting kitten just a few feet away and ready to pounce. He’s nowhere to be seen.
I throw the roach away, wipe up the mess. Go looking for the kitten, only to find him hiding under my bed.