Somehow, not-quite-seven pounds of kitten made their way up to the top shelf in the bedroom closet. While there, she jumped on a box and dislodged it and it fell down. It was not one of the boxes containing clothes that don't fit or are out of season. No. It was not the box with my wedding dress in it. Nope. It was one of the ones containing china.
Broken china, now. Guess I'm going to make some gorgeous mosaics soon, using bits of my grandmother's Limoges.
A few pieces may be salvagable with a bit of glue, at least enough to be hung on a wall above eye level or used under a candle. Which is to say used, as opposed to being in an unopened box that gets shuffled from dark closet to dark closet for a decade. Now that the set is incomplete and there are chips and imperfections, I can't wait to get it out and play with it. Weird.
I moved the remaining china boxes to a more secure location. The closet door is usually open a bit because it's a favorite hiding spot of the Gracie, but for some reason I thought a heavy box on a high shelf was safe from a few pounds of kitten. I was wrong.
Apparently Bea is Isaac's advance team for babyproofing. We've already had to switch to a lidded trashcan in the bathroom because she thought the old one was a box of magic treasure. Kitten energy is a crazy, crazy thing.
In happy news, Bea's vet pronounced her very healthy, and figures she's about six months old. Bea has a naked spot on her belly where they shaved her to check for a spaying scar, which she doesn't have. So we're taking her to the cat rescue where we got Gracie to get her fixed-n-chipped ASAP.
Isaac has been, as Jon put it, sleeping like a human being for the past few nights. He had three nights in a row of seven- or eight-hour stretches. Last night we had an early-morning bottlefest, but he went right back to sleep. And he's eating really well, too. I fully approve.
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