I haven’t written about the Trouble Twins in a while, so here goes:

High Adventure. One recent evening, I heard growling coming from the porch. I investigated to make certain the Trouble Twins weren’t talking trash with one of the neighborhood toms. They weren’t. Mayhem, however, was getting medieval on a cicada that was as big as my thumb, smacking it with his paw and growling as he did so. Mischief sat nearby, watching with interest. The poor bug’s wings were missing, and it was belly up. buzzing half-heartedly. I was surprised Mayhem was doing the smacking, and equally surprised Mischief let him.

My OCD Boy. On Sunday morning, I was awakened by the sound of Mayhem shredding a cardboard box, one mouthful at a time. Bite. Rip. Spit. Bite. Rip. Spit. He was very methodical about it. I simply don’t understand WHY he does this. He had been sleeping in the box for about a week.

Good Vibrations. When the Trouble Twins cuddle up to snooze on me, they put a paw on my throat, as if to locate my purr. Oddly, they don’t do that to my Sweetie. Just me.

Time For Rehab. Mayhem is addicted to his daily dose of Greenies breath-freshening kitty treats, but alas I simply can not find them! Mayhem is simply beside himself, racing to the pantry at every opportunity, “whirring” insistently, as if he will simply die without his special treat. I’ve purchased another brand of tartar control treats to appease him, but they aren’t quite the same and he knows it. Mischief, meanwhile, will chase anything you throw at her, including regular kibble.

Whatever Works. Mischief continues to sleep on my head, with her nose in my ear or with her head draped over my neck. I imagine this will be a useful habit to cultivate as the weather turns cold, but for now it is a bit too warm to be comfortable. And her whiskers tickle my nose.