We give Watson a bath and trim his nails approximately every three weeks or so. It’s a necessary evil that he hates with a fiery red hot passion. His claws have to be kept short to cut down on the number of angry hand wounds CK and I can stand. I seriously wonder if people are going to start thinking that I’m a cutter. No worries though! I just own a very playful and sometimes rowdy kitten.

I bathe Watson frequently because of my allergies. I’m actually very allergic to cats. These allergies worsen exponentially as the length of the cat’s fur increases. So my cousin’s short haired tabby “Baby” doesn’t bother me at all, while CK’s Aunt and Uncle’s gorgeous Rag Doll cat “Paris” makes me sneeze my brains out. That doesn’t stop me from picking her up and giving her a big friendly squeeze though. I just always make sure I have a supply of Claritin on hand.

For the most part Watson doesn’t bother my allergies but every few weeks there inevitably comes a day when I start to feel my eyes getting watery and my nose itches and I know that it’s time for Mr. Kitty Pants to have a spa day. This month’s bath was especially traumatic and he glared and hid from CK and I for a good hour after we washed him. A handful of treats eventually brought him around and now I’m happy to report that he’s back to his fluffy and squeaky clean self.

Since arriving in our home Watson has claimed my pretty pink throw as his own. I don’t mind. In fact, I just figured he had luxurious tastes.

I now have to revise that conclusion though as Watson’s new favorite place to get a little rest and relaxation is CK’s hamper full of dirty gym clothes. My kitten is obviously a tad bi-polar.

Watson has learned so many “useful” new skills over the last two weeks. The first was developing the ability to scale the drying rack followed by instinctively taking cover under my clothing after he knocked it completely over. As you can see from the photograph he’s also perfected the “it wasn’t me” face.

Mr. Kitty Pants also discovered that my sister’s laptop case was the perfect place to curl up and take a nap while still managing to be the center of attention.

He’s also worked out how to leap tall buildings in a single bound or at least he can make it to the top of the kitchen counters now – much to my chagrin. Cooking with Watson around has become quite the contact sport. We had a serious battle of wits last night while I was trying to make risotto for dinner.

And finally, our little kitten has also become enlightened to the fact that neglected dresser drawers (*cough* CK) are an oasis of catnap comfort. Obviously Watson has completely taken over our apartment. No place is safe from a curious kitten.

Watson had his last vaccination visit this week and we found out that he now weighs a whopping 4.6 pounds. He’s such a little piggy. He’s also developing quite the personality and cultivating a healthy love and appreciation of Whole Foods paper grocery bags.

I’ve also completely given up on trying to keep him off the dining room table. Anyone who loves a ray of sunshine this much deserves to enjoy himself fully. It also helps that he looks so ridiculously cute while reveling in his small rebellion. Far be it for me to take away something that gives Watson such blissful happiness.

I love this picture because he looks like a little sleeping demon. Which, let’s face it, he truly is at least 25% of the time.

Watson is growing up! Every single day it seems as though he’s bigger. CK and I think he grows in his sleep. I swear that you can practically see his tail increasing in size while you watch him play. It’s a little disturbing and a tad sad. I feel a bit nostalgic for the tiny ball of fluff that arrived just a few short weeks ago.

He’s already had his second bath.

But he still likes to be cuddled. Especially if he’s tucked into CK’s shirt. What a weirdo…

I’d like to think that this image is illustrating Watson’s sensitive side as he comforts CK after a hard run but in reality it’s Watson attacking him.

And this is where I found the Master of Brilliance yesterday. Happily playing inside an empty Propel box. To each his own.

Perhaps I should rename my personal blog to XoXo, Watson instead of XoXo, Erin? This site is quickly turning into an ode to all things kitten, but I just can’t help myself. As you may recall over the last few weeks I’ve mentioned having some Watson related frustrations. Well I’ve seriously chilled about Mr. Kitten. Unfortunately the catalyst of my new found calm and serenity was that I thought he was dead.

Last Wednesday was my birthday and I spent the day with my cousin Amanda sitting by her pool and burning my chest into a lovely shade of pink. The central air in our apartment was on the fritz so the maintenance supervisor called a technician to come over and take a look at it while both Chris and I were away.

When I got home that afternoon I couldn’t find Watson anywhere. Usually as soon as we open the door he’s tangled up in our feet purring and tripping us in excitement. I wandered around the house calling his name and still he didn’t appear. I looked under the couch, the beds, in cupboards and closets but Watson was no where to be found. I started to freak out at this point. I was convinced that the technician must have let the kitten out accidentally. I frantically tried to call CK, but it went straight to voicemail. I decided that I had to go find the maintenance man to see if he remembered telling the tech that we had a kitten, and just as I got my shoes back on guess who appeared out of nowhere in the door of our bedroom yawning and stretching?

I was so shocked and relieved that I sat down on the floor and cried. I’m not even kidding. I really did think he was lost, or dead and all I could think about was how much I had complained about him over the last week and how much of a bad person I was and on and on.

After I got myself back together I started to wonder where on earth Watson had been sleeping. I seriously tore the house apart looking for him so where had he been hiding? Well on Saturday the kitten disappeared again. This time CK and I knew he was in the house somewhere so after searching high and low I decided to station CK in one area of the apartment and I stood in the hallway outside our bedroom, then I banged on Watson’s food dish with a fork.

At first nothing happened, but then I saw a rustling on our bed. The comforter rose up and a small form moved underneath the bedding and out popped Watson. Apparently Watson has taken to sleeping not only on our bed but in it too. So now we have to be extra careful not to inadvertently sit on the kitten in case he’s decided to take up residence in his new hiding space again. That’s our kitty…

By the way, the video above is Watson’s reaction to my talking Kipper stuffed toy. I wish I had captured his original encounter with Kipper because he hissed at it, puffed his tail, and ran away, but it’s still cute to see him bat at the English doggy’s nose.

Watson associates the pet carrier with the Vet and can’t be persuaded to go inside on his own even when his favorite new toy, the laser pointer, beckons him to follow.

I’m not going to lie. I haven’t liked Watson very much this week. Maybe it’s the constant attacking of my hands and feet? Maybe it’s the incessant meowing while I’m trying to cook? Maybe it’s because he belly flopped onto a plate of palak paneer that I stepped away from for two seconds on the dining room table and splattered green goo all over the floor, the upholstered seat of the chair, and himself? Either way all of these things combined have me avoiding him today. I’ve shut myself in the bedroom and I’m not letting him in no matter how many times he shoves his paws under the door. I will not spend the afternoon fending off his little claws from my MacBook screen while I attempt to write. I will not allow him to scale the leg of my jeans like it’s Mount Kilimanjaro. Nor will I let him jump on my back and start chewing my hair maniacally until I pry him off. Today is a timeout for Watson day.

Fortunately for kitten in a few moments I will inevitably get over my anger at him because he will do something ridiculously cute like fall into a dead sleep flat on his back while playing with Sammy the Lambie. Or I’ll find him sprawled out somewhere looking like the above image. Granted this was taken last week when the temp was hovering around 90 degrees and our central air decided to break, but you get the idea.

If Watson had his way he would be locked in a room with both CK and I, all of his toys, and a stockpile of food for the rest of his life. When he’s awake and doing his roaming kitten thing he has serious separation anxiety whenever he notices that either of us has left the area. He always has his eye on us. He even waits outside the door while I shower. He’s also super vocal. He really does sit at my feet while I’m cooking, look up at me with big sad eyes and meows: Meow! Meow! Meow! Which I assume means STOP CUTTING THAT CARROT AND PAY ATTENTION TO ME NOW HUMAN. I’ll try to get a video.

Watson likes to party all the time. Party all the time. Party all the time.

Last time we met Dean Bearchester…well this is Sammy the Lambie.

Dean and Sammy cuddle with Watson.

Om Nom Nom Sammy.

I am a literary kitty. You like classics or pulp?

Watson contemplates his tail and the lack of sleeping accomodations.

Watson had the distinct pleasure of experiencing his first bath this morning. CK and I suited up in big ugly yellow kitchen gloves and methodically scrubbed and rinsed the little kitten into shiny submission. He was completely dazed and confused when I finally wrapped him up in a big fluffy beach towel.

Then he promptly ignored us for the next half hour while he meticulously licked himself dry.

Just FYI. Wet kittens are absolutely not cute, nice, or cuddly at all.