The Joys of Pet Ownership

I named my kitten after I gave him his first bath in the guest bathroom sink. As I held his tiny wet shivering body under the forearms, I had an epiphany that I then spoke out loud: "I shall name him Disco."

Disco has a streak of pink on his left side that we have decided is paint and not, in fact, ring worm. Two ringworm experts (=they've had ringworm before) judged it so. Still, to be safe, I scrubbed the sucker again yesterday. Still pink.

Disco seems to be a good boy. When I'm in the shower, he walks into the bathroom, politely turns his back, and guards the door. When I'm in the kitchen, he will sit in the middle of the floor and patiently wait for me finish. He does not, like other cats in my life *cough*Sheba*cough*, orbit around my head at 5 in the morning. Instead, like me, he will laze in bed until food magically appears.

Speaking of bed, he doesn't actually sleep with me per se. He can't figure out how to get past the mosquito net. So he steps on top of the net and settles down near my head, and I'm sure the mosquito net prevents flea transference. Right? Right? Not itchy yet...

Of course, the boy sometimes acts like a bat out of hell. Yesterday I discovered that the little bugger had pooped on my orna, which I'd left on my computer chair. I'm still soaking it in a bucket. Then last night, our flat completely lost power because our fuses blew. So I was sitting in the darkness, illuminated by the light of my laptop screen, writing a report, while Disco gamely tried to eat all my fingers. As my roommie put it: "ah, the joys of pet ownership." Indeed.
The culprit sleeping peacefully on the innocent orna before The Incident.