Mishka, I would like to introduce you to Closet.

Some of you imaginary people amongst my imaginary flock of followers may be curious to know the story behind my description of...me. Well, first off, I have a kitty. His name is Mishka (Meesh-kuh, not Mish-kuh), he is 9 or 10 years old, and he is the most adorable cat in the world. Yeah, I know, everyone with a cat thinks theirs is the cutest. Well they're all WRONG. Because mine blows theirs out of the water. Which is really doing them a favor because if your cat is at all normal and not a tiger, it doesn't like water. Anyway, Mishka is the cutest because everything he does, whether he is aware you are looking or not, is cute enough to make you cry. Although usually the reaction is big eyes and a big smoochy-lip smile. He loves to lay on his back with his little white paws in the air; he loves to steal chairs, or, if they aren't available, laps. He can't eat his food if you aren't watching. He only likes water out of the tub. He can't relax if you're moving around. This morning he threw up in the hallway, and previously he has left a bird's heart on one of my shirts. When he was a kitten, he slept in the sink, but he's outgrown that phase. He doesn't like Daft Punk...or maybe just my dancing to it. Yesterday he stayed under the cover of my parent's bed from when they made it in the morning to 5:00 in the afternoon. And he only left them because Mom went to see if he was okay, which woke him up. We recently made a move that took around 11 or 12 hours in the car, and as you can probably guess, Mishka wasn't happy. He yowled the whole time, but the chill-out drugs we gave made him sleep for the long freeway stretches. Now, other cats might hold a grudge. Claw your face off as soon as you let them out. Not Mishka though; as soon as I let him out, he was all purring and love and laying on my lap and rubbing on plants.

Well, recently he has taken a liking to my closet. There is a small corner that is clear of shoes and there aren't any clothes hanging over that part, and since the door is usually open, he can see right out and into the hallway and probably down the stairs. It's secluded, comfy, nobody knows where he is (that's what he thinks anyway) and he can keep an eye on us. Perfect! In a cat's mind anyway. And hey, if I was small enough I'd probably take refuge in there too. I just cleaned my room, but I tried to keep the closet mostly how it was. Really it's just an excuse not to organize it, but I think Mishka appreciates it.