It was only a matter of time before Jemma figured out how to empty the trash can in my kitchen. Now that she knows the trick, no garbage container will ever be safe again in my house.
She loves ones with a pedal that she can paw or lids that she can push open with her nose.
This particular day, I had woken up at 4.30am and staggered to work before sparrows for an exhausting 12 hour shift. I had thrown some marrow bones at the terrible twins to keep them occupied and switched the radio to soothing classical music. But while the Boss Cat is away the dogs did play.
As I crawled home in the thick traffic, all that kept me going was the thought of a hot bath and bed. But when I opened my door, what greeted me was not a pretty sight. A tornado of garbage debris was everywhere. As I picked my way through the smelly, sticky putrid mess, I noticed that Jamie and Jemma looked ominously bloated.
So instead of a hot bath and bed, I had to pull on the rubber gloves and force myself to start the back breaking task of picking up the garbage.
Whenever there is monkey business in my house, the main instigator is usually Jemma. She is far too bright and curious for her own good. She is literally always sticking her nose into my business.
She is often the unlucky recipient of a tongue lashing. Then I feel guilty. But I don't know why because quizzy-lizzy is soon up to her tricks again.
It seems curiosity does indeed only kill cats because my dogs are immune to this fate.