There is not a thing he does that he ever figured out on his own. If we did not already have another cat, Oskar, when we brought Onion home from the pound, he would now be the most foul-smelling cat unable to figure out how push a door open with his head. (He still doesn't know that he can push unlatched doors open with his head and instead stands patiently while looking at you with one eye peering around the edge of the door). Until Oskar schooled him in the true uses of his tongue, Onion was quite content to lick the entire bottom foot of our kitchen while leaving his own body to develop a distinctive stench. We had a very clean oven door back then and one stank-ass cat.
Now, thanks to Oskar, we have a clean-smelling Onion, but it has been a trade-off, because Onion has picked up a few other things from Oskar, like how to open our kitchen cupboard doors and crawl into our cooking pots and get on top of the bookshelf and JUMP UP ONTO OUR FREAKING TOWELS AND BEDDING ON THE HIGH SHELVES IN THE BATHROOM CUPBOARD.
Do you see all of that hair stuck onto the variety of things that Onion is pushing out of the cupboard in the second photograph? Yeah. So did I right after I returned home from the gynecologist's office yesterday afternoon. Isn't it funny how you can go from Hooray, the doctor says I don't have anal polyps! to What the bloody hell am I supposed to dry myself off with now?! Until I can trek out to somewhere that sells hardware for keeping Onion-who-thinks-everything-Oskar-does-is-gold out of our clean towels, I am choosing to pretend that our cupboard is really a cat fort. It's a cat fort lined with my red velvet curtains that are now little more than the world's largest lint brush, but still a cat fort. Hairy bedding? What hairy bedding?
The more I think about it, the more I think that Onion's legs are more trouble than they're worth.