It's a universal truth that cats and boxes is a match made in heaven.
And in this household I think it's safe to say that the king of boxes is Pelle (well, he's now the only male cat in this residence now, so the king-title is obviously his without competition).
He mostly spend his days in the tea-delivery box, from the other week. However last week I couldn't find him in his usual indoor places at night. Even though I knew he'd been inside when I closed the garden door.
The previous day I had gotten a delivery of cat food to the door, but not unboxed the bags. I did look in that big box, but there was no kitty hiding in there, nope there wasn't. In the morning I looked again, and since the box begun to purr I knew he had hidden in there, sleeping in a corner where I obviously hadn't looked closely enough.
Since then I've seen more of them enjoy the box, so I haven't had the heart, to unbox fully and take the big box to the recycling station, yet.
On Friday arrived a box with heavy vegan haircare products. It didn't take long for the queen of f***ing everything to conquer that box. As in "This day is now PURRFECT".
Much to little sister Ågot's dismay.
It didn't take long until Pelle claimed it as his though.
Some days Zigne calls dibs on the (at the time) best box.
Which makes Pelle an unhappy
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