Mystery solved...

Let's discuss our kitten, Jupiter Jones. I've covered how cute he is, how we've had to find interesting ways to kitten-proof areas of Casa Didgeridoo, and his relationship with Totsi the Dog. What I have not discussed is the strange behavior pattern he's developed over the past week or so, one that usually has me fleeing to the bedroom to get away from him at night, but marveling over how incredibly chilled out the little guy can be during the day. You're familiar with the way older cats will just lay in a spot and stare at you in a way that's a perfect combination of not caring what you're doing, but really wishing you would stop doing what that is so a napping marathon can continue? He started doing that overnight. He also started sitting very still looking very calm and pleased.

We were a little confused. "Wow! He's really mellowed out a lot!", exclaimed Didgeridoo Boy. "But he goes batsh_t crazy at night. He jumped on my back while I was sitting at the bar working on a model, and he keeps trying to climb my leg." So, yes, he began exhibiting highly polarized behavior patterns, one might say. Every night from my hiding place in the bedroom, I'd hear Didge hurling vehement exclamations and howling in pain.

Around the same time all of this started, Jupiter had taken to climbing the piano. Foot Foot's little bag of catnip was hidden behind the music rack, and he managed to bat that out and knock it to the floor - along with everything else I'd stashed back there. I saw it on the living room floor from the balcony, and decided to put it back when I went back downstairs - only it wasn't there when I went back. I assumed Didge had found it and re-stashed it. Am I talking to you?

A couple of nights ago, Didge's explosive lamentations began early, and seemed a little more earnest than those of previous nights. I had dashed off to the bedroom the first time the kitten flew through the air over my head and stuck himself to the couch, thinking I knew what was coming, but it was far, far worse. Didge even ran into the bedroom to join me in hiding. "Get back out there! He's worse than ever. Seriously. He's crazy!". I declined the invitation and reminded Didge of the water bottle and little glass jar of dried beans with the metal lid, both effective kitten deterrents. "He tries to drink the water when I spray him!", Didge said, but he went back. Not two seconds later, I heard, "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! OWWWWWW!".

And then it went quiet. A few minutes later, I heard him calling the kitten, walking around, and then running down the hall. He dashed into the bedroom again and said, "I know what's wrong with the cat." I asked which cat. "The kitten! I know why he's getting so crazy!" I asked if it was something bad. "He got ahold of Foot Foot's catnip from the piano and has it hidden behind those books beside it, and is going back there and eating it! He chewed a hole in the bag and is eating it!" We stared at each other for a weighted bit before I said, "Oh, holy damn."

Didge got the bag of 'nip from the kitten's hiding spot, and securely stashed it in a place where he won't get to it - we hope. He's returned to normal; calm is back to somewhat playful, and playful is no longer outright dangerous. The scratches all over Didge's arms will heal, and I'm able to spend less time hiding. Please notice that I am refraining from saying anything about having nipped the problem in the bud, because that would be too obvious a play on certain things. I'm so proud of myself for not having said that.