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| The costume. |
Yesterday, while strolling through Target in search of Ghirardelli Peppermint Bark--which was the only reason I went to Target--I passed the pet food aisles and saw cat costumes on the endcap. I bought the Santa cap and beard. Zorro would be damn cute as Santa, after all, even though I'm well aware of the fact that he doesn't tolerate shenanigans and hates playing dress up. I forgot to buy gloves too (Zorro is liberal in his violence and should have his own after school special about cutting), but I own an oven mitt, so at least one hand could be protected.
The plan: wait until this morning, when he's typically friendliest and groggiest.
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| Zorro was still in bed. |
Take him to the book room, where he likes to sunbathe on the love seat, and where there are fewer places to hide.
He hates closed doors. He knows something is up. Little bastard.
First attempt: Total failure. He wouldn't stand still, and immediately ducked away from the cap and yanked off the beard.
Second attempt: I'm being humiliated by a cat.
Third attempt: This time I'm holding him, and though you can't really see it, he's got eight claws latched into my knee.
I manage to get the costume around his neck before he bolts for his blanket. He's not particularly happy.
So close. He swipes at my hand every time I move toward him, though. Oh, and he's purring.
Success! Sorry for the blurry picture. That hat stayed over his ears for about 20 seconds. I was in a hurry.
"Get me the hell out of here."
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