A Ball Breaker....and Some Other Stuff

I'm sorry in advance but, really, I couldn't resist. Yes, I'm aware that I have a little problem with self-control. Anyway, this is a photo of the biggest ball-breaker of them all:

And this is but one of the innocent balls who have fallen to an untimely death due to her deft paws and unnatural persistence--to say nothing of her astounding resistance to frantic shrieking and arm-waving.

She sits on the stairs, pokes her paws through the stair rail and bats at the balls until they smash satisfyingly on the hardwood below. But it gets worse. The other day I came home to find another man down--only this time, it had landed on the rug and remained intact. I was delighted. I picked it up to rehang it, but then realized that I couldn't find the hook. No matter. I picked it up, carried it out to the garage to get another hook, and promptly dropped it on the garage floor and shattered it.

I think it's quite good of me to help out on those rare occasions when Gracie's aim fails her.

Speaking of cats, have you seen these?

Nope, you're not seeing things. They're glow-in-the-dark cats, genetically engineered by Korean scientists. I realize that this work is monumental in terms of studying genetics and how it can be used to help treat and prevent human disease and yet, I keep thinking the same thing: my cats are already faster, sneakier, and more determined than I am. Now they have their own built-in LIGHT SOURCE????

Ed, who most definitely does not glow, spends many a winter morning (by morning, I mean an ungodly hour such as 2 am that should not exist in the waking world of civilized individuals) standing on my chest and smearing his snotty nose all over my face in the hope of getting me to come feed him because, the two bowls of dry food available in the mud room notwithstanding, he is a poor, starving, unloved kitty. As it is, I can more or less ignore him and go back to sleep....but, with this new technology, he can actually shine an eerie, hairy sort of light in my face while snot-smearing. I do not feel that Mr. "13-pound Cat with Toes Like Iron Pebbles on My Boobs at O'Crap O'Clock in the Morning" needs any more advantages.

On the other hand, I suppose I could spot Gracie climbing up the Christmas tree....or, at least, I'd have a pretty good idea when I noticed some of the tree lights moving. And shedding. And, I suppose I could save energy costs by having her sit by my shoulder while I read in bed at night. Oh, and maybe if I could get her to follow me into the closet in the mornings when I'm trying to get dressed without waking Mr. K, I might actually make it to work with socks that match, scrubs that don't appear to have spent the night wadded up inside a goat (they all look ironed in the dark, what can I say?) or my underwear inside out. It does bear thinking about.

And then, just because scientists evidently feel that cats deserve ALL the advantages, take a look at this:

They have managed to breed mice that lack the gene that tells them to be afraid of cats. Seriously. (Just so you know, the scientists carefully selected the cats used in this experiment and, while the mice walked right up to the cats, played with them, and even snuggled up to them, they did not become mousekabobs. No mice were eaten to bring you this photograph). Again, the implications for the understanding of human behavior is astonishing, and I do see the importance of this work. But I can't help worrying about some of the less savory implications. For instance, a glow-in-the-dark cat who can find my credit card in the dark and use it to order a gross of fearless mice who will then take over my house and party all night once they've ganged up on the cat and tied him up under the sink. Or something. At any time I could come downstairs to find a cocky mob of mice gazing beadily up at me, saying something like "Yeah, we fixed Glow-Boy's ass, we can fix yours, too."

I have concerns, people. I have concerns.