Mickey Doesn't Know How Small He Is.

Mickey Kitty..... our youngest cat....... he was a year old this past July, and he is still kitten-sized. I haven't weighed him lately, but I would guess he's under eight pounds. Either he's a very slow-growing cat, or he was the runt of the litter and he's going to stay small. To watch him run after AngelBoy and ShadowBaby, you would think he's a lion. Or maybe that's it-- Mickey Kitty thinks he is a lion. King of his jungle, lord of the manor.

In a cat's age, I guess Mickey is a teenager now. And he is into everything he sees. Shoe boxes and shopping bags, purses and dresser drawers, closets and cabinets. If you leave it open and accessible, Mickey will be the first one to explore.

Mickey is also giving AngelBoy some competition with my shoes. AngelBoy loves shoes, and more importantly, he loves shoes in open boxes-- which is how the shoes are in my closet. On any given day, AngelBoy will walk into my closet for a nap. He's too fluffy and too big to curl up in a shoe box, so what he does is lay down next to his favorite shoe-of-the-day, and put either his head or his paws into that particular shoe box.

Along comes Mickey Kitty, who is small enough to curl up in a shoe box, right on top of the shoes. More often than not, Mickey will want the exact pair of shoes that AngelBoy has chosen for his napping spot. From my closet, I will hear a "meee---ooowwww" from Mickey Kitty. Then I will hear a softer "meeeeeewwww" from AngelBoy. No one can sound sadder and more hopeless than AngelBoy... he's an actor at heart.

I usually let the two of them settle their own differences, unless the meows get nasty-sounding. As in "If you don't get your paws away from those leopard sandals, I will take your whiskers and tie them to the shoe-laces of those sneakers." --- when I hear a meow that sounds something like that, I will get them both of the closet and shut the door tightly.

It's funny to me that the smallest cat in this house is the one without fear. Mickey will jump higher and run faster than the older cats. Sometimes he runs so fast across the tile floors in the kitchen and breakfast room that his back legs start sliding and the only way he stops is when he goes head-first into the wall or a door. If I didn't know better, I would swear that those are the times that AngelBoy gets a satisfied smirk on his little blue-eyed face.