Home alone one day, my son, the youngest of my three children, decided he wanted Tux to be all black. I have no idea why. Not only is he a child, he's a boy ... and I'm not quite sure it's possible to understand what goes on in their heads!
So, on the day in question, my son gets out a Sharpie marker and colors the white spot on Tux's chest. Now keep in mind, this is in Tux's pre-declawed days. Tux is hardly what I would call a sweet, compliant kitten, so I can only imagine the gymnastics that child had to go through in order to subdue the cat long enough to color him ... and the fact that he did not require a trip to the Emergency Room is a testament to his ingenuity!
Apparently, coloring a cat with a Sharpie marker is not a good idea. The cat walked like he was a little tipsy for the rest of the day. I'm not sure it it was from the fumes or the chemicals seeping into his skin. As his "high" wore off, he became one of the sweetest kitty cats you've ever seen. You could hold him and cuddle him without fear of being shredded by his razor-sharp claws!
That was months ago, and Tux has returned to the same psychotic kitten he was prior to "The Incident" (as it's came to be known). He's declawed now, so cuddling him isn't as dangerous as it once was. And, like before, he's exhibiting the textbook symptoms of ADHD. (Do they make Ritalin for cats?)
I'm giving serious consideration to coloring the cat again ... and blaming it on my son.
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