The kitten has taken to dragging his kill home to me. This means the floor around my desk, where I'm usually to be found, is littered with his offerings. So far, he's "killed" a blanket, my brother's hooded jacket, a toy mouse, a bright yellow stuffed dog wearing a christmas hat, a paper bag, a plastic bag, a paper envelope, a swizzle bird, and a neon pink snuggle pillow. (I'm tormented by thoughts of the day the snuggle pillow eventually disgorges its polystyrene beans.)
It also means that, when he crawls into bed of a night, sometime around midnight, he tries to drag his latest kill in with him. Last night I woke up with the swizzle bird boring through my shoulder. (Considering he has to drag it down the stairs, up onto the couch, from there onto the bed, around me and down under the covers, that's actually quite an achievement.)
Also, according to my (admittedly statistically insignificant) sample, I may be the only person in the known world who hatesloatheshates Heaven icecreams. And Lindt chocolate balls.