Plop

Our elder statescat Earl is a jolly old chap.  Lately he's been feeling much more chipper, now that he's no longer fighting for his life, and downright feisty.

He's up to his old tricks, namely attacking the bottom rung of the dining room chair (lying on his back with his front paws hooked over the rung while the back feet try to kick it into submission), chasing toys across the kitchen floor, attacking feet from out of nowhere, doing the Earl Plop. What's that, you ask?  That's where he head-butts your ankle and at the last second kinda rolls over his shoulder and plops face-up on your foot.  Our old family cat used to do a much more graceful roll over the foot, so maybe that's where Earl got it from.  Earl is not much on grace.

In any case, the other day the four of us humans were romping around on the big bed (it's an air mattress, the boys LOVE running and crawling and jumping and falling on it) when I realized that apparently N has been taking notes.  Several times that boy crawled over to me, put his head down, rolled over his shoulder, and PLOPPED right down in front of me, looking up at me like as if he'd just stuck the landing on a double-twisting Yurchenko.

Earl merely blinked at me and looked wise.