Enter Otto the Orange.
Sometimes he just gets bored in the middle of the night. That's my best guess anyway for why he does what he does.
The other night:
It's 2:46am. I'm sleeping. I'm cozy under the covers. The fan I use as a sound machine is whirring in the corner. I awake to the sound of a plastic bottle scooch-scooch-scooching across the top of my dresser, followed quickly by said bottle hitting the carpeted floor. I decide not to open my eyes just yet. "Give it a minute," I tell myself. The next bottle begins to scooch-scooch-scooch across the dresser. I sit straight up in the bed and loudly whisper "OTTO!!! CUT IT OUT!" His paw is outreached, still touching the bottle that he's slowly pushing off the dresser. There's no denying he is guilty as charged. Just for good measure, he pushes the second bottle onto the floor. Thankfully these are plastic bottles (lotions) and they are landing on carpet, so no breakage involved. He meows at me as if to say "What?! I'm bored." I twiddle my fingers together to beckon him onto the bed. He makes a glorious leap from the dresser to the bed, landing with precision, as he always does. I pat the bedspread in his favorite sleep spot. He circles a couple of times and then strategically lies down. I pet his head for a second then I lie back down. The whole incident felt like an exercise in futility to me, but whatever. He's going back to sleep. I'm going back to sleep. Hooray.
I'm linking up with Heather today for her "Just Write" adventure: