It all started primitively. I came home from work one night to a trail of tiny toilet paper shreds, leading from the bathroom, down the hall, and into my bedroom, where it morphed into an explosion. Was Roux trying a Hansel and Gretal tactic so that she could find her way back to her litter box? This seemed highly unlikely, but I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, since we hadn't had any issues for a while. But she didn't stop there.
A couple nights later, I heard a paper bloodbath taking place in my bedroom--the sounds of ripping and shredding echoing throughout my apartment. I walked in to find Roux eating one of my drawings that she had torn down from my wall. I threw the drawing on my dresser and told Roux to stop it (as if she knew what I was saying). I resumed my place on the couch when I heard her ripping another drawing. I ran into my bedroom and turned on the light, but Roux was nowhere to be found. I picked up her second victim and turned out the light. With the flick of the switch, Roux came darting out from beneath my bed and attacked my legs. A perfectly-timed ambush! She was standing on her hind legs, biting at my calfs and digging her front claws into my sweatpants. I. was. terrified. Later that night, Roux got the boot and I made her sleep on the couch (yes, we're a dysfunctional couple). The battle had begun.
The next week, Roux was hiding in her favorite spot in the rafters of my ceiling (I live in a converted warehouse, so the building's original wooden beams and piping run throughout the space). She was pawing at something so I took a step closer so I could see what it was. I couldn't tell so I started walking away when I heard a loud thud. I turned around to see what had happened and saw a broken painter's knife lying on the floor. Clearly whoever had painted the ceiling had left the knife up there, but it was clear to me what was really going on. Roux was trying to assassinate me. If I wouldn't have stepped away, who knows where that painter's tool would have landed!
But nothing could have prepared me for what happened a few days later. I came home after work and went into my bedroom to change...that's when I saw it. My two top dresser drawers are skinny, and I keep my underwear in one and my bras in the other. Both drawers were open and all of my underwear were dumped in my bra drawer, and my underwear and bras were tossed like a salad. My initial thought was that a pervert had broken into my apartment and gone through my underwear (I'm not sure if that ACTUALLY happens, but I've seen it happen on Lifetime movies). I immediately called my mom, freaking out and screaming "A PERVERT HAS COME INTO MY APARTMENT!" The first question my mom asked was if anything was missing. "I DON'T KNOW I DON'T TAKE INVENTORY OF MY UNDERWEAR DRAWER!" I looked around the apartment and nothing else had been messed with. Something wasn't adding up. Meanwhile, Roux was perched in my windowsill, calmly watching my spaz attack:
It was suddenly all too clear to me. I peeked into the empty underwear drawer and it was padded with gray fur. I don't know how Roux opened my drawers, but she cleared out my underwear drawer so she could nest!! The next night I came home to find my underwear drawer cracked open an inch and all of my underwear strewn about on the floor. At least she was being a polite pervert this time, attempting to shut the drawer back after her break-in.