What are the odds that I would have not one, but two homicidal Furbabies? Seriously. What. Are. The. Odds?
The first time occurred a couple of years after Bandit took over my life. We were visiting Mama in Florida, while Mama and I went to town, I left Bandit in the bathroom. I made sure he was quite comfortable with his pillow and blankie, food, water, and a toy. When we returned, the toy, a floppy pink flamingo was in the water dish. I assumed it had escaped from The BaldOnes Death Shake (his favorite way to play), or he had tossed it in the air but couldn't catch it due to the confines of the small room. I'm not sure if he tosses the toy on purpose or if it simply escapes the Death Shake. For whatever reason, the flamingo was wet.
The second time occurred a few months later, while we were on another trip. I left to go to a BBQ place, and left Bandit in the bathroom with the same setup: bedding, food and water, and a couple of toys. Upon my return I found a serial killer had struck. His M. O.: death by drowning, with the intended victims being pink flamingos. At first I thought perhaps this was a freak accident. However, when I fished Pinky out of the water dish he came out in pieces. For real. Not only was Pinky drowned--his legs had been severed from his body. This was no accident. Pinky got the Double D--Drowning and Dismemberment.
In the ensuring years Bandits violence has escalated. He has progressed to the Tripple D Stage: Drowning, Dismemberment, and Disembowlment. Returning to his carnage is never a pretty picture.
The destruction of his toys is not the only way he conveys his displeasure with me. A time or two I have come home, to find shredded socks and drowned night clothes. He had to drag my night clothes through three rooms to his water dish. He was not assigned the chore of doing the laundry, so I finally got it. He was angry with me.
In an attempt to connect with the "why" of his outrageous behavior, I thought back to his pre-bathroom confinement. He used to roam the hotel rooms free, just like he does at home. However, one night I returned from dinner out, to find he had peed on my pillow. Since I knew he had pottied before I left, and I had only been gone a couple of hours, I deduced he was pissed off at me. Pun intended.
From that time on, when left alone in a hotel, he is confined to the bathroom.
Until we adopted Moggy.
With the addition of Moggy, Bandit has a playmate. Or someone to hide under the covers from, depending on how well they are getting along at that particular time.
Our new morning routine: I take Bandit outside, while Moggy eats his kitten food in peace. Once Bandit and I return, I feed Bandit, then I get ready before I leave for the day. If the night before included a late night potty break for the BadBoy, I might get ready first, then take Bandit outside. However, the constant is Moggy being fed in peace while Bandit goes outside.
Thursday was such a night. After I lost at Bunko (yet again), I returned home and took care of some chores, then I took Bandit outside for a late night potty-break. Friday morning I bathed and dressed for the day before I took Bandit outside. When we returned, I found my night gown in the water dish again.
Moggy had motive, means, and opportunity.
Bandit had an airtight alibi.
However, I do not for one second believe Bandit is totally innocent. I'm pretty sure the TerrorTwins have been talking.