Rhett is in so much trouble this week.
First he chewed up/scratched up the grips on John's new exercise machine.
He must have had a good 'ole time because there were little black pieces of rubber even on my keyboard, where he dumped off half of my desk.
We have to take the thing apart every time now and put that part in the closet.
Speaking of my desk, he has decided behind is a fun place to bat his jingle balls and unplugged the power strips twice this week. I walk into a dead computer and have a heart attack.
Yesterday morning I see more black stuff is everywhere. There is rubber on the foot part of the exercise machine too, I mean there was.
A red glitter ball was sitting there as evidence.
Rhett was napping peacefully nearby.
Last night John caught him jumping full force at the kitchen cabinet where the dishwasher is. Notice I said at not on.
This morning the dishwasher was wide open, the little shit has found out how to open it so he can play inside for some reason only a naughty kitty can understand.
Even while I am typing this, I had to stop and rescue my flip flop from the jaws of destruction.
Rhett says: Who me?
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