[Parental Advisory Warning: Gratuitously 'Kyoot' Kitten Antics]

Beezle (my 6-7 month old kitten) has taken to nighttime stealth
pillaging and, unfortunately, my neighbor (or rather, her cat) just
happens to be the target:

Upon noticing strange, fluffy animals materializing in different parts
of the house, I assumed my kindly neighbor had generously given them
to Beezle (maybe in an effort to quell the rivalry between our two
respective cats). My second option was poltergeists, and perhaps I
should've just stuck with it.

Anyway, feeling indebted and somewhat (as it turned out,
inappropriately) touched, I hastened to thank my neighbor for her
more-than-gracious generosity. She's actually been very *sweet* since
I've joined the neighborhood; inviting me over for drinks and nibbles;
tolerating my 'music', etc. Besides, anyone who refers to President
Bush as a 'c.nt' can't be all bad.

Right, so there I was, proclaiming my thanks to my neighbor from
betwixt the small gap in the crappy, brush fence:

Me: It was very kind of you to give Beezle *all* those toys (there's
like five or six of the fluffy, little buggers).

Neighbor: (pause)

Me: You really didn't have to... (gushing)

Neighbor: I didn't.

Me: Oh.

Neighbor: No. However, the other day I went outside only to find
Beezle trying to *cram* a whole *tennis ball* into his mouth. One
assumes with the express purpose of dragging it back over the fence.

Me: sh.t.

Neighbor: He's been stealing my cat's toys.

Me: Really?

Neighbor: I'm afraid so.

Me: Sorry.

Neighbor: You've raised a criminal.

Me: I didn't realize that stuffed mouse (with the jingly bell thing)
was *hot*, else I'd never... (embarrassed blather, excessive cringing,
etc)

After our 'discussion' I sheepishly returned my neighbor's (or rather,
her cat's) belongings and all was well. That is, until the next
morning, when the ferking stuffed toys *materialized* in different
parts of the house *again*; a veritable plushy menagerie, in fact.

To this day, I confiscate and return the stuffed toys as soon as I
(predictably) see them, only to later (and without fail) find them
squirreled (kittened?) away in some dark corner of the house.

To add insult to injury, Beezle tried to steal Fence Guy's handyman
gloves, too: if it weren't for two timely interceptions, I'd be making
more red-faced apologies to yet *another* victim of the HUNGER. Beezle
had one glove (by the finger-tip) firmly wedged into his mouth whilst
shamelessly (and not all that covertly) attempting to slink off,
presumably to hide it somewhere.

He did this not once, but *twice*; leaving me to distract Fence Guy
whilst simultaneously wrestling back the glove from a hell-bent
kitten. This ridiculousness was furthered by the fact that the glove
was *bigger* than Beezle (and I suspect he would've pissed off with
the second glove too, given half the chance).

Sheesh, kittens these days. Give them five more years and it's ram
raids on Wal-Mart. 'Lock up your [Friskies], I'm warning you.'