20 January 2002

Our kitty, Keats, can be so weird at times.

We love to watch his antics, observe how cute he is when he sleeps, hold him curled up on his back in our arms, and enjoy his affection. He likes to crawl into my lap here at the computer, reach up and put his little paws on my face and lick my chin. It's really quite endearing.

Recently, however, he's taken to following me to the shower and sitting in between the curtain and the clear liner the whole time i'm showering, seemingly fascinated by the whole process.

And then there's his growing interest in pee. No matter where he is in the house, as soon as he hears that toilet seat go up, he races to the bathroom. With me, he stands up on his hind legs, his paws on the edge of the bowl, watching with fixed wonderment.

Keats has also been unusually fiesty lately: racing around the house, lunging at my feet as I come down the stairs (usually at about the third step from the bottom), dragging Laurel's knee highs all over the house (ruining them in the process), and regularly leaping onto the dog's head, digging in his claws, and chewing on Nicky's upper lip. Luckily the dog is a really good sport.

Given his recent growth spurt, I suspect much of this hyper-activity is the effect of raging testosterone. If so, when he gets his balls lopped off in another few weeks, that should calm things down a bit.