A Cat Named Schrödinger

I haven't spent much time writing or blog-reading this past month. One reason is that I've been suffering from Alphlambé.¹ I've also been heavily involved in Operation Pending Baby. I've spent some of my spare time with a power sander on Home Improvement.² And of course, when the weather bypasses the second half of spring for the hot stickiness of summer, I'm always overcome by a General Malaise.³

But more than anything else,⁴ the reason for my absence has been this little man:

Schrödinger (who I first introduced in January) may look all cute and innocent, but only that first descriptor is entirely accurate. Sure, he may purr like a chainsaw and look heart-wrenchingly adorable while doing pretty much anything that doesn't rhyme with joop or jommit, but he's a monster.⁵ And I'm not exaggerating; "Monster" is, in fact, my wife's pet name for him.

He's almost ten months old now, and he monsters⁶ everyone in the house. If he's tired of napping and doesn't feel like entertaining himself, we'd better be flailing something around for him to chase. Otherwise we're in trouble. He'll bat at Callie's face until she retreats, with him in hot pursuit. Sonya's wagging tail is always ripe for attack. If Denise or I head toward another room, Mr. Underfoot is right there, ready to trip us multiple times as he sprints ahead to find out what's going on. And of course, we need to lock up anything we care about that's made of paper or cardboard. They don't call him Schrödinger the Shreddinger for nothing:

Which brings me to my absence from the internets. A few weeks back, Schrödinger found his way into the small space atop my desktop computer, behind the keyboard tray.

He then discovered that I didn't like it when he batted at my mouse, clicking the buttons (and randomly deleting passages in the process) or pulling it and the mouse pad to the floor. In fact, he discovered that if he did this enough, I'll get exasperated and do something to distract him. I might even pull out his new favorite toy, the LASER.

I use the laser to lead him all over the second floor, which tires him out; soon he's out cold in the hallway, dreaming of elusive little red dots. I return to my writing. Ten minutes later, he's back behind my keyboard tray. Laser, rinse, repeat.

So you can see why I haven't been too computer-productive of late. I've been too busy entertaining our feline friend by turning plastic seltzer bottle lids into hockey pucks (he's got this great move where he'll deke right into my shin), crumpling up post-its for him to kill (their colorful carcasses later show up under the area rug in the kitchen), or letting him chase some tail:

Sure, I suppose I could just close my office door and play music loud enough to mask his chirping and scratching as he tries to claw his way in to see me (and the LASER), but he's just too darn cute. I'm powerless to resist.

It may mean I'll visit fewer blogs and work less on my novel for a little while until he outgrows this phase,⁷ but that's a small price to pay for cuteness.

Yeah, I'm weak. But I see that as one my strengths. Now, if you don't mind, I have a kitten to entertain.


¹ a.k.a. A to Z burnout.
² Although in my version, there's far less grunting.
³ *salutes* And to think, just last week he was only a Colonel.
⁴ Except for procrastination. (You knew I'd get to that eventually, didn't you?)
⁵ And to date, he's never jommited.
⁶ Verbing words is fun. So is adverbing themly.
⁷ See, that's funny because it's not true. There's no way I could possibly work less on my novel.