I like to have Trader Joe's blueberry waffles for breakfast some mornings. I spread them with butter and shake on a heavy dusting of confectioner's sugar. This still adds up to a lot fewer grams of sugar than a serving of most cereals, flavored yogurt, or even fruit juice. And I feel I get a lot of bang for the buck.
There's one problem, though: they are supposed to defrost for a short period of time before they go into the toaster. So I leave them sitting out on the kitchen counter and forget about them. Usually my punishment is a very soggy waffle. But recently, I was deprived of the entire experience:
Harris had sniffed out my waffle and carried it off. He'd eaten a fair bit of it before I heard the racket and discovered him. (I filed away a mental note that soggy waffles don't bother Harris a bit.)
His criminal activity attracted Possum, who surely wanted to sample the waffle but decided to look on benevolently instead because, as we all know, Harris gets testy when anyone tries to share his spoils.
I knew blueberries aren't toxic to cats but I didn't know what else might be in that waffle, so I boldly took it away from him. It was soggy indeed, and it had been the last one in the box, so we were both deprived. I made another mental note that we can never leave anything on the counter that we don't want Harris getting into.
This reminded me that I'd found a few more photos from the night Harris stole Lion's blanket last month. He'd also tangled with Toffee that night, hissing and growling as he controlled his fleecy prey and warned off all comers:
Like the other cats, Toffee takes a philosophical approach to Harris's territorial behavior and thievery. They all give him the feline equivalent of shrugging their shoulders and rolling their eyes, and don't deliberately provoke him. But Toffee is the family scientist, so he was observing Harris's weirdness at close range as would any
cat anthropologist felinologist, making internal notes on Harris's curious ritual.
Harris didn't care for that.
While we were in Maine, Harris had another vendetta with the phone next to my bed, which he'd knocked to the floor along with its charger. He also managed to pick up the heavy marble coaster that I keep in a small basket on my bedside table. I found that under the bed. I sometimes keep my earrings in a tiny brass pillbox that I keep next to the bed, and I keep finding that all over the place, along with my lip balm and every other small object that sits on that table for any amount of time.
But all of that pales in comparison with another incident of thievery, which I will tell you about as soon as I'm done repairing the victim.