- Maximum face nuzzle! The larger (as yet unnamed) fellow really likes to nuzzle people. It's his thing. He climbs up on your chest, at pushes his hot dry nose into your face as hard as he can. A few days ago, he discovered that he can increase the nuzzling intensity by winding up a bit, like a pitcher throwing his own head. Yesterday evening, he discovered that he could increase the nuzzling intensity even more by getting a running start, and face-planting into my face while I'm reading.
He is now starting from the hallway, and using the corner of my bed as a springboard to launch himself at my head at a full gallop. He tucks his paws under his belly and closes his eyes, so he comes in like a little furry nose-missile. I dare not get out of the way, or he'll hit the wall behind me and hurt himself. About half the time, I managed to catch him before he hits me.
His little brother sits quietly on top of the pile of books next to my bed, and watches his larger brother do this with a sort of sad, disappointed expression on his face.
- Do not eat dental floss. They climbed up onto the sink, opened up the medicine cabinet, and pulled down my dental floss. They then managed to unravel the whole spool by chasing it around the legs of the kitchen table. Thusly restrained, they then proceeded to eat the dental floss, one cat at each end. I woke up to two very sad kittens, attached to each other by their pyloric valves, separated by about twelve inches of knotted dental floss. There was a lot of puke everywhere. I carefully pulled the floss out of their throats, which led to more vomiting. They hated it, but didn't struggle or scratch. They looked very surprised once they felt better.
- Stink beetles taste terrible. This hardly needs elaboration.
- Falling in the toilet is not fun. This evening, the larger fellow decided he was suddenly interested in the toilet bowl, which he's never cared about before. Perhaps this was part of a quest today to gain as many disgusting experiences as possible. He followed me into the bathroom while I was hanging up the towels from the laundry, and I could stop him, he scrambled up and over the seat and into the bowl head first. He seemed genuinely shocked to discover that he could not avoid the water at the bottom. Vigorous thrashing and yowling commenced. His little brother looked on from the threshold, looking grave and embarrassed (as usual). I pulled him out, and he stopped yowling, and stuck him into the shower, and he resumed yowling.
Now he smells like Irish Spring, and keeps casting suspicious glances at the toilet. A few minutes ago he followed me into the bathroom again, and did his threat display (puffy tail, arched back, hissing, sideways-walking) at the toilet. His little brother, once again, observed from the threshold with a grave and embarrassed expression.