I acquired a lovely new rug as a housewarming present. Loki has commenced to shred it.
My leather armchair and matching ottoman, which survived nearly 20 years in pristine condition, have been reduced to a mass of punctures and scratches in 8 months. They used to be my nicest pieces of furniture.
My expensive honeycomb windowshades are an irresistible target for clawing and climbing.
From time to time a thing of value that is supposed to not be on the floor lands on the floor in a catastrophic fashion. This is not the result of malicious behavior, but of exploratory curiosity.
And although he’s mostly grown out of his kitten moniker of Señor Poopifeets, there’s the occasional brown pawprint somewhere I really wish it weren’t.
The upshot is that I can no longer possibly be house-proud. At best, I can keep things reasonably clean and hold the cat hair down to a dull roar. My belongings ARE going to be mauled and in disarray. There will be brown bags and boxes and cat toys strewn about the living room.
I can have neatness, control, and unmarred furniture or I can have Loki.
I think I’ll take this as an opportunity to practice detachment from inanimate possessions and loving-kindness toward the little furry creature who shares my home.