Simon“A lot of cats outgrow that,” said my friendly neighborhood vet when I called to inquire about Simon’s penchant for continually seeking out and ingesting anything plastic.

A lot of cats—but apparently not my Simon. The Little Terrorist turned one year old yesterday. One year old, and no indication of ever slowing down. Not even a little bit.Drape

Oh, he’s plenty of fun, that’s for sure. He’s a bona fide barrel of laughs. I laughed like crazy when I discovered he’d clawed long tears in the front room drapes so he could have a clear view of the driveway while lying on the back of the couch. At least that gurgling noise I made could have been laughter…

Funny how every other cat I’ve had for the 29 years I’ve lived in this house could figure out how to duck underneath the curtain to come up and sit in the sunny windowsill. Funny how none of them ever found it necessary to destroy the fabric.

Tree pawHe’s a hoot, all right. Runs and hurls himself through the house like a gallivanting flying monkey on a regular basis—usually about 3 a.m. each morning.

He knocks everything from the tabletops while I try to sleep—tabletops he knows he’s not suppose to be running across—and I spend the first part of each day picking up after him. He also burrows under the scatter rugs and guest room blankets, making it necessary to straighten those up every morning, too.Boys

Yep, Simon is a Little Terrorist, that’s for sure. But he’s MY Little Terrorist, and his older brother Alvin and I both wouldn’t have it any other way.