Posted by Tom on July 19th, 2010 |
3 comments
Meet Sisyphus.

Last week, I went on a road trip to visit one of my brothers out in Ohio (the other brother came on the road trip, as did my mom). On Wednesday, two interesting things happened. The first was that my bocce team won its first game! Whoo!
The second was that I got an e-mail from HP (my roommate, not the computer company). The subject line simply read “Whoops.” When I opened up the e-mail, I saw his message to me was “I did a thing.” Then there were pictures. So I clicked the first one, and saw this kitten staring back at me.


She is 8 weeks old (I guess 9 weeks now). We named her Sisyphus because, much like the character from mythology, she seems to repeat herself ad infinitum, regardless of the unchanging nature of the outcome (ie, she goes and eats my power cables, so I move her, so she runs right back to them again). We call her Sissy for short, because let’s face it, that is exactly what a 9 week old kitten seems like it should be named.
As a roommate, she’s pretty useless for paying bills, or maintenance, or really anything involved in renting an apartment. What she lacks in money making, though, she makes up for in loving to cuddle, chasing invisible enemies, and turning into a pure ball of energy and tearing through the apartment, making death-defying leaps to furniture and the top of my closet (I’m still not sure how she got up there, by the way).
I’ve tended to feel as though our major decisions in Boston have been generally blessed with good luck – we successfully paid for our Chelsea apartment, found decent jobs, had Evy and Ivy (aka Stripes and Fatty, the two cats we had in Cheslea) in our lives, moved to Brighton (because Everything’s Brighter in Brighton), and now we have Sissy, a playful, friendly kitten that likes to explore and seems to have no interest in getting out of the apartment. Now if only I can trick her into smoking so she will remain that size…
Oh, the size. Yeah. She’s a 9 week old kitten. For a sense of scale, here she is sleeping on my feet. Yep, she’s that small.

Tom