Cat tales

A little math problem for you:

You have a room that contains eight VERY busy foster kittens. You open the door.

Two kittens run out. You put one kitten back. Two more kittens run out. You put three back. Three more kittens run out. You put two back. One more kitten runs out. You put one back. Two more kitten runs out.

Please answer the following:

  • How many kittens are still out?
  • How many of the escapees were the same kittens?
  • How long did you have to search for the final kitten before realizing that she discovered she could go down the stairs and was exploring under the bed?

Don’t forget to show your work.

*****

I have a cautionary tale for you.

Rupert occasionally goes through periods of extreme horking. The last few days he’s been in epic form (in other words, watch where you step!). So when he was sitting on the island, right beside my laptop, and I heard him make his distinctive little ‘I’m going to hork’ cry, I decided that instead of just pushing him off the island so he’d hork on the floor (and not on my laptop), I would instead grab him and dash him over to the sink where he could then hork directly into something that would be easy to clean.

I know, I know, but in my defense I hadn’t had any coffee yet, so I wasn’t thinking clearly.

Let’s just say that we didn’t make it to the sink. Let’s also just say that (because the splatter range of a cat horking from five feet in the air is *impressive*) the kitchen floor and all the cabinet doors and baseboards needed to be thoroughly cleaned anyway. Sigh.

Please learn from my fail. You’re welcome.

‘Tis the season for Holidailies.

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