A little less than a week ago, I innocently left my bachelorette pad in the heart of the Plateau Mont-Royal in order to move into a suburban house with the two creatures you see on this photo. The three of us had already spent a fair amount of time together so I didn’t think things would feel very different.
Aside from a strange obsession with binder clips (which I will tell you about in a future post), the guy in the hat has not pulled any big surprise on me. It’s the redhead who turned from sweet angel to pure brat.
I left the house for an hour this morning and when I came back, our house alarm had gone off, ringing loudly throughout our quiet neighborhood. I ran into the house (not the smartest thing, I know), entered the code to turn off the alarm and heard a thump. I turned just in time to catch monsieur le chat Spiff jumping down from the kitchen counter. He had that look on his face that tells me he knows he’s in trouble.
After many of my friends became victims of thieves who ran away with their CD collection, I had my last apartment equipped with an alarm system. The house we moved into last week already had an alarm system so we decided to have it connected to a central. The alarm guy came over last week to change all the motion detection devices for « pet friendly » ones, meaning that any thief under 30 pounds can enter our house and leave with our CD collection without triggering the alarm.
The system was supposed to be cat proof, except of course, if the cat managed to climb all the way to the ceiling, right next to the motion detector. Nah, I thought. Spiff le chat is old, he won’t do that.
Well, I guess Spiff le chat is in better shape than I thought. He triggered the alarm today by trying to climb on our very tall range hood. Curiosity did not kill the cat but it nearly gave its master a heart attack.
Half an hour later, I got a call on my cell phone from my previous alarm company. They wanted to warn me that the fire alarm at my old place (which is still connected until the end of October) had gone off a few minutes before, and they were sending the firemen over to check out the place. I made a few calls and finally found out that the dust from the sanding of the floors, taking place in my empty apartment right now, triggered the alarm. I couldn’t blame that one on the cat but somehow I was still mad at him.
Poor kitty. I should take it easy on him. He just moved (yet again) to a new place and then he got one of those silly manicures… Check out the photo closely. Can you see that Spiff has blue nails? No, I haven’t turned into one of these silly cat ladies who dress up their animals. I’ll explain why his nails have turned blue as soon as I can figure out how to keep him from climbing on top of the cupboards. Isn’t my life exciting?
