So Mini-Kitten isn't so mini anymore, she's growing fast, but she's still mini compared to me.
I'm pretty much convinced my little sister is what only can be called "bat-shit crazy". And I mean that in the nicest of ways.
Curiosa and the Dude just sit there and look at her as she pounces on something that isn't there, runs across the room and does a quadruple backflip, using the edge of the couch as a balance beam. Then it's her superman routine, where the Dude exclaims, "Holy cow! It's a bird, it's a plane, it's a flying mini-kitten!!" as she crosses the room in leaps and bounds. Her grand finale is a triple salchow, topped off with a few seconds of adorable tail chasing, after which she collapses in exhaustion, with her head on her paws.
She takes a quick cat nap, and then two minutes later repeats the routine, with some variation in her pouncing and tail chasing.
I can see why Curiosa and the Dude are a bit baffled by this behaviour, because I'm a cat and I don't entirely understand the actions of the adorable spaz that is my little sister. I mean, pouncing on air is one thing, I get that, but the triple salchow is a bit over the top.
On another note, the Dude and I have reached an understanding. He has agreed that I am the Man of the House, and the only reason he is allowed to be there is because I say so. He gives me plenty of chin scratches, takes lots of anti-histimines, and washes his hands after aforementioned chin scratches. In exchange, I have agreed not to poop in his shoes. Sounds like a pretty fair deal to me.
The Dude is out of town for a week, so we've been allowed back in the bedroom. That's right, I knew Curiosa would come to her senses and would come crawling back. I promptly re-asserted my reign over the bedroom, by sitting on the pillow that the Dude has claimed for himself. Curiosa warned me that this is only temporary, that in a week, after some serious laundering, the bedroom will once again be a cat-free zone, but we'll see about that.