Bridget! Stop. That. Now.

Bridget is quite a kitty. Sometimes she's sweet as can be, other times she's full of the devil. The devil cat we call Brigetta.

This evening she's been very pawsy. Flick this, push that. Wow! Look at that pen fall on the floor. The post-it note, too!

I'm not sure who the bigger idiot is: her or me, for continuing to pick things up so she can knock them down again.

Brief pause.

I've just returned from tackling Bridget and pulling a twig from her mouth. I'm not sure where she got it, but it looks suspiciously like a piece of my grapevine wreath from the front door.

If she grabs my blanket, falls on my foot, stands on my laptop, hits the blinds, or...fill in the blank...I think I might just have to stick her in time out.

Living with Bridget is like having a 3-year-old who will never.grow.up.