My house (that I own. Just, you know, in case you’d forgotten – I own a house!) has hardwood floors – distressed hardwood floors. Not distressed like fashionably beat-up, distressed like years of borer damage, washed with stupid things, and a touch of paint spotting distressed.
When walking through the house for the first time the land agent presented them to me like the cherry on the top of an awesome purchase “distressed hardwood* floors! Original to the house!”
Personally I’m ambivalent to the floors. The extra bored bits will be replaced in a few months, then I fully plan on slapping carpet over them if I can’t get underfloor insulation in place. Or maybe I’ll replace them with a floor NOT distressed to hell and back.
Batz on the other hand? Batz loves these floors like he loves woodfires and the blood of his enemies. At night he entertains himself by galloping through all the rooms, and marveling at the sound of his own powerful stride.
Even when the little booger decides that he’s ready to come sleep on my face I hear him clicking up and down the bloody hallway with his claws.
We also have a new game where I throw treats and he chases them down like a cheetah chasing a cheese flavored gazelle (my cat has an active imagination.) Only my cheetah often skids into walls or does somersaults, because of the floors and the lack of traction.
Obviously I don’t laugh, because that would be cruel. (But then he did put a rat on my clean laundry that time, so okay, I snicker a little bit.)
The other reason the unhinged monster loves hardwood floors is because of the way it makes his spooky ghost child howl loud enough to catapult me up off my bed and onto the roof in fetal position at 4am in the morning.
Like this morning for example. Cat ownership. Highly recommended for everyone ever.
Oh god I just had the worst thought ever. I’m bringing an impressionable puppy into a house where my cat finds it perfectly acceptable to howl at 4am in the morning like a lion waking the Savannah to feed him cat treats.
Training a dog, I’m certain, will be cake (shut-up, don’t spoil my fantasy with reality) training a cat on the other hand? 3+ years of living with Batz suggests that that is more of a hope than something that will happen in the real world.
*What the hell does hardwood even mean though? Because I thought borer liked softwoods best and they’ve sure as heck eaten the hell out of my floors sometime in the past.