do you remember when you were a kitten and your people gave you a cardboard box to play with?  do you remember jumping in and out as if every time you landed inside you you might find something different?  do you remember the amount of noise your jumping in and out made, as though you were something huge and fierce instead of teensy?  do you remember pretending it was your very own house, curling up inside when you were tired and taking a nap?  do you remember hiding in there and launching yourself on unsuspecting human toes?  how bad-ass was that?  i don’t remember any of that because i spent my kittenhood in the woods, hiding under piles of leaves.  we weren’t allowed to make noise.  we could play, but we had to be careful not to attract the attention of a hawk or raccoon.

things are different now that i’m inside.  there’s Spelunk, and there’s a box.  if he’s not in it, he’s thinking about being in it.  watching him made me curious, and being a scientist at heart, i decided to try an experiment.  Splat was having a snack, and i got in the box.  he didn’t see me get in, and he clearly didn’t think that was something i would do.  blending perfectly with the dark interior, i waited.  he finished eating and sauntered over.  he jumped in, and i jumped out.  we collided in mid-air.  it was glorious, like a pair of bottle-rockets joined with one lit fuse.  he’s gone to take a nap now, and i’m plotting my next experiment.  now that i’ve proved cats can fly, i want to see how long they can remain airborne before returning to earth.  damn i love this box.