Monday, May 4, 2009

Back in the Way Long Ago

See how cute they used to be? Back when I took them off Lindsey's hands because she had two humans under the age of two and additional motherless kittens to feed just wasn't part of the equation. Besides, I wasn't working at the time (that bastard Ray!), so no worries.

Yeah, but they're much bigger now, three years later. And full of attitude that no house guest should ever think of trying to get away with.

Once upon a time I might have contemplated having kids ... but that was long before Briggs and Stratton, who are like visitors from prepubescent ADHD hell.

Okay, maybe that's a bit strong (after all, they are cats), but what else to call sharp teeth that bite your ankles All. The. Time? Apparently they're always hungry.

Or little bastards that chase eldercat #2 around the house, full-throttle, at 3:00am? Every night. That is one fast-moving, snarling, howling mass of sonofabitch-I-will-KILL-YOU-if-you-don't-shut-the-eff-up-NOW while I try my best to hurl a slipper at any of their heads. Even if it misses the little pukes and kits eldercat #2 (also known as Maddie), she'll have done something to deserve it (not really, she's an absolute doll, but in the wee hours of the morning everyone is fair game, so long as it makes them stop).

Yes, they are nocturnal beasties.
Know how I know?

Because they're in my effing house, that's how! As if I wasn't having enough trouble sleeping through the night with the girl's constant meandering in to let me know, via huge gust of revolting dog-breath blown directly into my face, that they're bored, or hot, or thirsty, or happy, or just plain awake, and would prefer it if I'd get up. Right now. To let them out.

Only to wait until I'm asleep again to start up this awful barking/howling noyze from the backyard to let me know they're again bored, or hot, or thirsty, or happy, or awake, or thought they saw/smelled/imagined a something out here with them and are ready to come back in. Now. Either that or Boogie barks once a minute, like a metronome, until my head explodes and I turn into a gibbering idiot who shambles out to the kitchen to let them in. Which happens veeeery quickly, because I don't need unhappy neighbors, thankyouverymuch (and I'm generally thisclose to gibbering idiot at all times anyway, so it doesn't take much to push me over the edge).

Only to repeat, rinse, wash ... what seems like all night long.

So I decided to close the bedroom door to keep the girls out. Yeah, because having them snuffle/snort/investigate under the door is ever so much more quiet! Ah-huh. Right.

Ever heard a bedspread get caught in a vacuum cleaner? That sound? Try waking up to it six times a night. Needless to say, the girls are now penned in the kitchen for night-nights.

But I still have to close the bedroom door right now, because lovely little boys are night-stalking nuisances, and eldercat #2 just can't handle it. Eldercat #1 (my Joey) couldn't care less ... all he has to do is look at them and they literally whine and run away. It's too funny! If Joey weren't stone cold deaf he'd be able to keep them in line at night but, as it is, he pretty much sleeps through all their shenanigans.

Makes me contemplate a knitting needle to the ear drum, to be honest.

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