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Not so temporary insanity

So, I realized I hadn't been on here in a while and decided it was high time to get back at it. Nothing really new or spectacular going on in the McCarter house as of yet however, we do have a serious issue with our cat Ricky, who seems to have lost his freaking mind. Anyone who has met Ricky knows he's a sweetheart. He loves his mommy, grandmommy and his nanny. He only loves others when he wants something, usually treats.


 The past month has been a little nuts with Ricky. He's constantly wanting to go out our front door and go outside. We live in an apartment on the second floor of the building so seeing his big fluffy but run down 30+ stairs at lightning speed is pretty entertaining...when you are LETTING him go out, not when he FORCES his way out. For example: I come him he meets me at the door jumps over my feet and runs down the stairs before I can even think to yell at him. Sneaky turd. So, we have decided several time to keep him from going out and only take him when he's been exceptionally good. The problem here is he's not been that good. Fast forward to 4am. We are sleeping comfortably in bed, it's quiet and all you can hear is the ceiling fan running and Julius snoring. Ok, maybe it's not that quiet, anyway. Then you hear scratching. You can't figure out where that's coming from. You look around and the other two cats are sleeping so you get up and almost get knocked on your butt in the middle of the dining room by none other than Ricky. He has started scratching the front door trying to get out. He's done it so much he's taken off paint. (There goes the pet deposit!) it's become almost a nightly ritual to get up and scold him, bust his butt, spray him with water or if worse comes to worse...put him in kitty time out a.k.a the cat crate/kitty prison/the penalty box or whatever you wanna call it. Nothing has worked! This little moron his driving us batty! I've googled, asked friends, called the vet, you name it and it's been tried. So we have come to the general conclusion that he's getting old and set in his ways.


He will be 7 this July after all. After trying, screaming and throwing a fit I've came to terms with no matter what he does he's still my baby. My Rickers, my doodle monster, my brat cat, my Ricky. And no matter how much sleep I lose or how crazy he gets or how many messes he makes, I'll love him just the same. He may be a pain in the butt but, he's mine. Always

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