Barry's brains

[desperance]

Y'know, he may not be so dim as I pretend. Twice today he's pinched the laser pointer off the table; I think his little cat mind has already connected the object with the Evil Red Dot, and he's trying to make it happen in my absence. If he only had opposable thumbs...

Also, he's spent an hour being sweet on my knee today, and he's currently being sweet on the desk here, all curled up and sleepy between keyboard and screen. It's probably the weather (chilly today, and my knee is warm, and so is the halogen lamplight), but hey. I'll take whatever I can get, up to and including Manhattan.

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[fastfwd.livejournal.com]

Miss Kitty Calgary outed herself early on in life, when we were still living in Kansas. But then, she was never much for being sneaky.

She developed an attachment to my clothespins when she was a kitten. One day, she saw me put them in a drawer in the kitchen, so she got up on the counter, reached down with her little paw, opened the drawer, took out a clothespin and ran away with it. Without shutting the drawer, of course.

Not long after, after I put my son to bed, I was coming down the hallway to the living when I heard someone trying the knob on the door between the house and the garage. I grabbed something blunt and heavy and tiptoed down the steps, peeked around the corner--

--and discovered Herself, standing on the steps on her hind legs with her front paws wrapped around the doorknob, trying to open it and get into the garage.

"What are you doing?" I said, gobsmacked.
She looked over her shoulder at me as if to say, What the hell does it look like I'm doing? Don't just stand there, open the freaking door already. (As far as she knew, all the catfood came from some bottomless supply located in the garage.)

A few weeks later, I was dozing in front of the TV--alone--when I heard the sound of someone going through one of my kitchen cabinets. Went out to the kitchen and there she was, standing on her hind legs on the lower shelf of the cabinet where I kept the coffee mugs, and rifling through the mugs on the upper shelf.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked her.
Again, a long-suffering cat look: I know you've got the treats hidden around here somewhere, so don't just stand there--help me find them!

Remind me if I told you how she instructed us on how to use the DVD player after we'd had it for almost a year and still couldn't figure out how it worked. (I've told everyone at least half a dozen times, I think...)

I'm pretty sure that one of her cat toys is actually a kitty-mobile-phone in disguise. I bet she and Barry talk all night.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Whoo. I haven't actually caught him being that smart - but it is conspicuous how I was very accustomed to shutting the girl-cats into one room or another to allow workers to do their stuff unencumbered, and I did just assume that I could do the same with Himself - and Himself has already demonstrated a cheerful ability to get out of any room in the house, however the door may be shut against him. A man's coming to (I hope) fix the phone tomorrow, and he is going to be so Barryfied...