Ferris Foundation

So, Turd Boy is 10! If he were a real child he'd be a fifth grader. Spooky. Instead he's a yacking, crying, up-at-all-hours of the night, temper tantrum throwing perpetual 2 year old. He is starting to mellow out, we've noticed. And, he's becoming more of a Daddy's boy! Pining after his dad, chasing after him to play with him, and then begging for attention... pfft.

 Since we've decided to not let him out any more (torture, abuse, neglect, I know!) we've noticed a significant decrease in his yack-land mines. Until this week. He must have a blockage. We've been feeding him the Halo brand foods and mixing hair-ball remedy in to help him out. But, back to the land mine story.

 I had left my towel on the corner of the bed last. The next morning, groggily getting up to start my day I grabbed up the towel and headed into the shower. After, I blinked the water and sleep out of my eyes and went to dry my face off in the plush yellow towel and was welcomed with half-dried cat yack. Thankfully I had opened my eyes enough to see it before I gave myself a cat-vomit facial.

 I suppose I should be grateful he aimed for the towel and not the carpet or the bedspread.

 Ferris has taken to, in the mornings, sitting on top of the table (a big no-no) to survey his great savannah (the backyard) like a lion. Before, he'd scramble off a surface he knew he wasn't supposed to be on, but with his cantankerous age, he'll sullenly glare at me before he lopes off, only to return to the spot, I'm sure, after I leave.