He's gonna grow out of this right? He's still a baby; eventually he'll grow up and calm down some. I hope.

Asher and I had a bit of a falling-out this morning. He can be a bit wild in the mornings, tearing from one room to the next and playing with anything he can get his little paws on. I think there are three reasons for this: 1. because I'm awake and he wants me to play; 2. because I'm not paying attention to him (getting ready for work) and he wants me to play; 3. because he knows I'm leaving AGAIN and he wants me to play. He's a big fan of playing (of course he is, he's a kitten!), and he loves being the center of attention, and I think he gets pretty lonely when I leave him alone all day. Poor kid.

So this morning as I was trying to shower he hopped up on the bathroom counter, knocked my rings on the floor, and started batting them around the bathroom. As a result he got kicked out of the bathroom. :P I don't usually mind him being in there. He has a strange fascination with the bathtub... loves to climb in and lick up the water after my shower. Or bat at the water coming out of the faucet. Most days he'll just crouch on the edge of the tub outside the curtain while I shower. I took a bubble bath on Sunday and he loved that. He sat on the edge of the tub and pawed at the bubbles (and my toes) and let his tail dangle in the water (I don't think he even noticed, it was pretty funny). But anyway today the "ooh shiny!" got him shut out of the room, because I didn't want to go looking for my rings all over the apartment (and especially not in his litter box!).

Other things he likes to do: jump on the kitchen counter and knock things off. Sometimes a spoon, occasionally the Cow, a plastic bag if I just got back from the store, papers, whatever happens to be up there really (thankfully NOT the butter dish though, at least not yet). One day he knocked my check into the sink and I had to wait for two days until it dried before I could cash it. :P Anyway, this morning I put my lunch on the counter so I wouldn't forget it, and wouldn't you know, I'm getting dressed and *crash*... crashes are never good. :P Sure enough, he's dragged my lunch into the living room AND gotten half the sandwich out of the plastic wrap, and isn't he hunched over it on the floor, licking the ham (the top layer of bread and cheese, not to his liking, discarded nearby). Actually right now the whole picture seems pretty humorous. But at 7:30 this morning, without time to make another sandwich, I was pretty mad, and I hit him (and yelled). I feel bad about it now, because he doesn't understand. I scared him, but I don't know if he knew what he did.

Cats are so much different than dogs. They don't care if you yell. They don't understand "no". Punishment doesn't seem to do anything, which I do understand a bit, because I can't be there to reinforce the punishment the rest of the day. It can be infuriating though, especially when you're down half a perfectly delicious-looking sandwich from an already rather small lunch. A dog at least feels bad for upsetting you, lowering his head and creeping away with his tail between his legs and looking ashamed and heartbroken and so pathetic that you want to go and scratch his ears and apologize for losing your temper like that but he's not allowed to eat your lunch because you need it for lunchtime. And he'll look right in your eyes and let you know how sorry he is and that he'd give anything to take it back and he promises he'll never do it again. And a dog means it. He would like nothing more than for you to be completely happy and love him all the time. (Of course, being a dog, he'll still eat your lunch the next time you leave it out. But he'll be just as sorry then too.)

Asher is not sorry. He has no idea why I took the sandwich away and yelled and hit him like that. He stares at me with big yellow eyes, slightly freaked out, and his tail puffs out to three times its normal size, and then he flies away to pounce on a cardboard box and continue ripping up the carpet by the door. Dogs, I really do think now, are smarter than cats. At least in some ways.

What Asher really needs is some good old-fashioned play time. He really loves people, and I know he hates being cooped up by himself all day. He likes having somebody paying attention to him. He's always up and down, on and off my lap when I'm home, looking for a playmate and sometimes just for some petting. He's not really cuddly, as cats go. He doesn't like being picked up, he prefers to jump on you instead. (Usually, if you pick him up and put him on your lap, he'll jump off, and then jump right back up five seconds later. Everything has to be on his terms.) He talks a lot, especially when I first get home, telling me all about his day (or so I assume, although more likely he's saying "Why did you leave me here all day AGAIN!"). All in all he's really not a BAD cat. He's still a kitten so of course he gets into stuff... I have to keep the garbage can under the sink and make sure all closets and cupboards are closed, but is that so bad? No.

If I'd adopted from a shelter, I honestly don't know if Asher would be the one I came home with. Choosing from a whole bunch, I probably would have picked someone a little more cuddly, that liked to be picked up and carried around, and a little less wild, probably older than Asher. Probably female, to be honest. Asher can be such a sterotypical little man sometimes. ;) Aggressive and into everything and playing playing playing all the time. I'm sure he'll calm down as he gets older (at least I hope so). My cat Moses (well... I guess he's mom and dad's cat now :/) grew up just fine. If he was an indoor cat I'd probably have him now, and no Asher at all. But switching a 9-year-old cat from outdoor to indoor (not to mention from house to one-bedroom apartment) seems pretty cruel.

Don't get me wrong, I like Asher a lot. He's adorable and he brings some excitement into what might otherwise be boring evenings at home (even if most of the excitement is "Asher, NO!" and "Get down!" and me pulling him out of the refrigerator ). :) When eventually I can get him to stay off the counters and stop ripping up the carpet I think we'll live quite harmoniously. No he's not the orange tabby I've pictured myself with as long as I can remember. No, he's not perfect, but what in life ever is? A pet is like a child in some ways. You don't really know what they're going to be like until you get them home, and sometimes they drive you so crazy you think you'd be better off without them. But all they really want is a little bit of love. You can't pick your child's personality, and once they arrive you can't trade them in for a "better" model... and I hold FIRMLY to the belief that the same thing goes for pets. Unless there is a problem so serious that you just can't live with it, pets are for life. Asher's probably going to be around for the next 15 or 20 years, and I think we'll get along just fine. :)