Even Cats Love Chai

She stole this box out of the recycling

“That smells delicious,” thought Tumble, “I wonder if my head will fit inside?”

Tumble loves boxes and hates recycling. She spends a good deal of her time trying to knock over our paper bin or lolling around inside it.

People always say they want smart pets, but Tumble is annoyingly smart. She gets bored easily. She’s possessive and jealous. When I moved in with my now-husband, she used to gently claw my head or my wrists at night. Not enough to harm, just enough to send a message. “I’m allowing you to live for now, soft human, but I could totally eat your eyeballs. Mm, eyeballs.” My husband got Tumble from a rescue when she was just a kitten and she’s absolutely devoted to him. If I was second in bed, I’d find her sprawled in my spot. It is surprisingly hard to move an eight-pound cat who doesn’t want to be moved.

Sometimes at night I’ll wake up to the repeated “Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.” of Tumble opening and closing our kitchen and bathroom cabinets. I’ve babyproofed our cleaning supplies.

She’s curious to the point where it’s sometimes a problem. It’s cute that she pushes open the bathroom door when you haven’t closed it all the way. But Tumble needs to know what you’re doing. She needs to taste the water in your glass! How else can she be sure it’s safe?

The box won this round. She rolled around like that for like five minutes.

The extremely masculine hand belongs to my husband, incidentally.

My taller half is in the habit of leaving a glass of water on his nightstand, and then getting annoyed when Tumble sticks her face in it. I will buy him a sippy cup for Axemas.

I’ve always heard that people don’t adopt black cats and dogs disproportionately to the rest of the adoptable pet population. People say it’s based in superstition, but I imagine it’s also because it’s so damn hard to get a picture that isn’t just kitty laser eyes and shadow. And also superstition. Tumble is only bad luck in that she keeps breaking glasses.

She’s annoyingly bright. I can’t overemphasize this. If my husband lets his alarm clock go for too long, she bats him in the face with her paw and headbutts him until he turns it off. If she wants your attention, she will get it, goddammit. It is adorable how loyal she is: if I’m awake and he’s not, she’ll follow me around. When he wakes up, she comes running over and demands attention.

Tumble is basically a scarf that loves you. If I’m alone in the house and I’m working at the computer, she’ll spend a lot of energy trying to get into my lap. I can’t type with her there, so I put her around my shoulders. She’s not that big, but she’s long and stretchy and will sit there for hours or until I get too warm.

Tumble hates recycling and loves boxes

Oh, Tumble.

The tea, by the way, is Tulsi chai. I usually make my own from Ceylon and cheap spices (international-style markets are amazing) but it was given to me as a gift and it’s pretty good. It’s a little pricier than I like for bagged tea, but that’s what made it a good gift, something I wouldn’t buy for myself. And it’s 100% Tumble-approved.

We have two cats, incidentally. The other one prefers coffee and isn’t quite as comfortable getting her picture taken.

She didn't like boarding with our friends.

She’s actually a marshmallow, I swear.

True story about the coffee. When I rescued her, I was working at the evil empire of coffee chains. I gave her one of my work shirts to sleep on while I was getting to know her and she’s been known to try to open bags of ground coffee.

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