Fishing Expedition

About a month ago, one of the girls (I don't know, but I'm assuming Serena) discovered a new game. It's a relatively simple one: it only requires an inattentive human, a single front paw, and a drawer full of socks.

To understand the geography, the sock drawer in my dresser is the bottom-most one; since the dresser is on legs, this makes the top of the drawer just a bit higher than the cats. And, traditionally, I've been...well, not bad about closing my drawer, but not thorough. I would push it closed, but would generally wind up leaving an inch or two opening in it.

It's that gap the girls count on for their game, and it was the gap I inadvertently gave them today. I knew it immediately when I came home: there was a pair of my socks sitting on the couch. Then I noticed another pair on the bedroom door threshold. Following the trail, I found the mother lode—a cozy nest of socks in the middle of the bed.

See, here, as best I can figure, is the game: the little ladies make sure the gap in the sock drawer is sufficiently wide (pulling it open, I think, if it's not enough), then fishing in with their paws until they successfully hook themselves a pair of socks. Once they've got it, they pull it through the gap, drop it on the floor, then carry it off in their mouths. Then, when that pair's gotten boring, they can just go get themselves a new pair.

I might put forth a greater effort to stop this if it weren't so darned cute!