Whatchu Doin’?

We’ve come to realize that Obi doesn’t get yelled at. Ever. His actions are, however, questioned.

As the curtains in my office billow and the lump behind them climbs higher. Onto the monitor shelf, causing the books there to wobble.

“Hey Obi, watcha doing?”

I hear a noise in the office closet and look over to see a brown kitten, halfway to the mountain of boxes. Reaching. Reeeeeaching for a precariously balanced box on top.

“Hey Obi, watcha doing?”

Usually he backs down with my question. But sometimes a kitten has to take a stand.

The brown kitten stands in his back feet, front paws resting on the coffee table. Searching. With two gentle nudges, the flashlight we use to find toys under the couch falls to the floor.

Then he nudged it some more.

And a little more.

“Hey Obi, whatcha doing?”

Making eye contact with me, Obi nudged the flashlight again. And it was under the couch.

Oooooh, bad kitty.

But maybe I could check for the yarn balls when I retrieve the flashlight?


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