Ralph, Oh Ralph

Ralph feels very comfortable here.  He is redecorating the house to suit himself.   As the only male in residence, he finds my extensive collection of pigs too girly and cutesy for his taste and has cleared several shelves.  One small pig was evidently so distasteful that he hid it weeks ago and I've not found it yet.  A framed photo was not to his liking and was knocked to the floor so many times I finally rescued it and put it away.  The bath mat in front of the shower had to go.  There are certain toys from Bessie's basket that he wants placed in different rooms.  I pick them up and put them in the basket; he puts them back exactly where he feels they belong.  I may end up with just valances above the windows.  The long lace curtains at the side are a bone of contention between us.  They used to be held by tie-backs with a nice poof; no more.  A full-grown cat swinging on a lace curtain will tear off a tie-back.  I know this for certain.  What I don't know is how he manages to swing on the curtain and not rip it to pieces.  He likes the longer look so he can play hide-and-seek through the lace.  We have "conversations" about this, with me yelling and him ignoring me.  Ralph has chosen a particular end table as a nap site and swiped off everything but the telephone so he can stretch out in comfort.  I seldom go downstairs anymore, but Ralph does.  I am a bit afraid to go down and find what changes he may have wrought there.  As he goes about his decorating chores, he gives quiet "Brrpp, brrpps" of satisfaction, much like humming to himself.  When I try to talk to him about this problem, this little red-headed boy gives me a look of wide-eyed innocence and assures me he has no problem.  Oh Ralph.