Sleeping AND keeping an eye on the toy stash, now that's what I call multi-tasking!

No, we don't let Zim on the kitchen counter. He knows he's not allowed up there.

Rocks can make for good pillows to watch TV

Zim on his jungle gym

He's definitely waiting for one of his human slaves to throw his toy

Nap session in between pigeon hunting

We washed this throw rug as it probably had some pigeon blood on it.  Air drying on the balcony.  Apparently it's super comfortable and probably has some traces of pigeon's blood, which just makes it all that more alluring!

Blood and Feathers - Not for the faint of heart

Zim's humans were both at work all day yesterday so Zim was left to his own devices.  I thought it sucked to come home to the massacred kitty treats bag on Monday night (my own fault for leaving the bag on the counter in the first place).  He shredded the bag and finished off the treats (was only a few left, so not so bad).  But there were bag shreds all around the apartment with the most of the bag in the bedroom.  And I thought that was bad...

Last night I walked in the front door to Zim prancing about and crying for dinner (normal).  I push past him and put my things down onto the bed in the bedroom where I notice on my side of the bedroom there is a good amount of feathers and blood.  

The good news is it is pretty much contained to that area.  Feathers all on the carpet, blood on the carpet and some blood splattered on my dresser and bedside table.  I take a picture, text it to Ben and start investigating the rest of the apartment.  Zim is still following me about asking for dinner.  He, by the way, has not a spot of blood on him.  His white is as white as ever (Ben said he must've gone next door to take a shower and get rid of all the evidence!).

Living room is spotless.  But the kitchen....uh, well...  

At least he semi wrapped it in the blanket (yes that has been tossed).  And it's all pretty contained in the respect that there's only blood (and pigeon corpse) on the white blanket.

There are a few feathers (but no blood) on the balcony right in front of the bedroom.  Our best guess (yes, we need a nanny cam) is that the (stupid) pigeon landed on the balcony, Zim grabbed it, brought it into the bedroom (on my side of course), killed it there, then picked it up and carried (or semi-dragged as it's half his size) into the kitchen where he probably tried to play with it, but it was already dead.  Then left it there for me to find (and cook for him?).

Zim says he wants to be called Killer now.

Just file this under reasons not to get a cat.

Look for the eyes

Sometimes Zim wishes he was a professional hockey player