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A dip in the turtle tank

My two cats, Pip and Squeak, are both rescued orphans. Pip, at nearly 6 years old, has matured into this calm, cool personality who is content to sit by me, whatever I am doing, and just be there. Squeak, at just 7 months old, is an explosive burst of energy fascinated by the law of gravity.

Squeak never tires of testing gravity. Anything sitting on a ledge is fair game. A glass on the coffee table? A tap of her paw and it's on the floor. Change on the nightstand – ditto. Music books on the piano – a cascade of falling paper. Candle holders on the fire place – I came home to find shards of glass in the carpet.

Sometimes she conspires with Peanut, the miniature pinscher. She knocks stuff off and he carries it away to his bat cave under the bed.

Squeak recently discovered the dangling cords of the blinds, which means I've had to tie them up out of her reach. Out of reach is not out of mind, however.

Squeak was sitting in the windowsill, eyeing the blind cords high above, oblivious to the turtle's tank of water on the floor below. She stretched her full length up the glass, paw reaching upward, and then jumped a little. She missed the landing.

Squeak splashed into the turtle tank. She barely touched the water when she shot straight up 3 feet into the air, claws out, her agile body flipping 360 degrees in an acrobatic performance that would make a gymnast proud. She landed on all four paws, a dripping mass of feline indignity.

The turtle didn't poke his head out of his shell for two hours.

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