The Morning Mayhem Begins

What a morning. My two tiny terrors have been in rare form. Usually the day starts the same way: breakfast for both kitties, followed by a full‑speed race around the condo. I try not to be in my recliner when this happens, because it’s one of the main sections of their racetrack. They’re just as likely to launch off my head — leaving tufts of my gray hair behind — as they are to springboard off the back of the chair. It’s truly a dangerous place to sit once they’re wound up.

The Post‑Race “Recovery” Phase

After that comes the recovery phase. Once they’ve burned off that first burst of morning energy, they each find a spot for a quick nap while they wait for me to clean the litter box. They supervise this process closely. As soon as I finish, they each reclaim a box — I’ll spare you the explanation. Then they get their morning treats, and normally I get a little peace to write, read, or even sneak in a nap of my own.

Balboa, Agent of Desktop Chaos

But today? Today they rewrote the script.

It started with Balboa. As soon as he finished breakfast, he came over to my desk to “see what I was doing.” He stretched out across the desktop, looking perfectly relaxed. That was just to lull me into a false sense of security. The moment I moved my hand from mouse to keyboard, a paw shot out like lightning. He grabbed for the mouse. I grabbed back. My typing came to a halt. Balboa was not deterred. His paw moved from mouse to keyboard, and the next thing I knew, I had a whole blog post of kitty gibberish.

This back‑and‑forth went on for a while. I was getting nothing done, and Balboa was delighted with himself. Fortunately, he has a short attention span and eventually wandered off to find some other form of mischief.

Banner vs. The Fitbit: A Rivalry for the Ages

Enter Banner.

My Fitbit was on the charger — and somehow, Banner knew. My Fitbit is his nemesis. He tries to chew it off my arm, he finds it when I hide it in the medicine cabinet during my shower, and no matter which charging station I use, he senses it. He has some sort of sixth sense for wearable technology.

Thus began my efforts to distract a determined agent of chaos. Banner has a much longer attention span than Balboa, and this was turning into a full morning of distraction. Cat 1, Hooman 0. The Fitbit barely survived.

Eventually, I gave up trying to charge it and put it back on my wrist. Banner gave me a tail flip — the feline equivalent of a rude gesture — followed by a disgusted look before wandering off, muttering under his breath the whole way.

Temporary Peace… Probably

Back to my work… I hope.

I quietly snuck the Fitbit back onto the charger. Both cats finally settled down for their morning nap/recharge cycle. And now I wait, wondering what they’ll dream up next.

Tiger Panther box war

Living with cats is like living with tiny, furry project managers — always supervising, never helpful, and absolutely convinced the world revolves around their schedule.

Banner and Balboa would like you to know this post contains affiliate links. If you buy through them, I may earn a small commission — which they insist should go toward treats, toys, or whatever they’ve decided to knock off the counter next.