Monday, February 7, 2011


I was going to post this nice blog about friendship and adventures, yadda yadda yadda. And then I woke up this morning and found something much different to blog about.

Let me introduce to you the monsters, er, cats. In 2008, a friend rescued a teeny little kitten from the streets. Well, the tiny black furball ended up at our place, where he quickly got attached to me, following me from room to room. Being clever we named the all black kitty, Jynx, not realizing at the time how fitting the name was. Our long, slender devil continues to follow me around and has some separation anxiety issues, crying and clawing at the carpet when I dare to want to close the bathroom door with him on the outside and me on the inside. Jynx was a playful little guy who quickly learned he had claws, and promptly forgot how to NOT use them. He sometimes got confused, thinking he was a dog, and would play fetch for hours. Well after a year of bleeding nearly everyday from the loving cat attacks, we considered a second kitty. Maybe, just maybe if Jynx had a little playmate, he'd stop clawing my hands and feet to shreds.

2009: a coworker's barn cat had kittens. Perfect opportunity for a playmate for our four-legged maniac. We picked out a cute little gray and white tiger boy. And thinking that he'd be born in a barn and had to dodge horse hooves, he'd be a tough little guy and keep Jynx in line. Well, it turns out that Fritz is our chubby little scaredy cat (perhaps Jynx pounced on him one too many times). He's usually Mr. Independent, but watch out when he wants some attention! You better be ready to spend some time rubbing his ears, chin, and belly. And he's a drooler when he's happy. Never sit down on the couch without checking under the blanket to make sure Fritz hasn't burrowed in for a snooze. If you can't find him, check under the bed. Or just wait until about half an hour before feeding time, like clockwork, he'll remind you it's almost time to eat.

Fast forward to February 2011. I thought it was be nice to have a fishy friend on my desk at work. So I found a couple Betas and got them all set up in a tank at home over the weekend. Freud and Siggy seemed to be adjusting fairly well to their new environment. Jynx found them, of course, and sniffed and sniffed at them. The cats were never left unattended around the fish. All was going well.

I should have known better. I should have. I really should have known. After all, we had to buy a bread box for our bread. We had tupperware gnawed on because there was a biscuit inside. I found teeth marks in a rubber spatula left in the sink of dirty dishes. Jynx once pushed an entire pie off the counter trying to break it free from the pie container. I should have known.

The fish were safely closed in the bedroom for the night, away from the monsters. I mean cats. In the morning they would make the trek to work with me. All their paraphernalia was packed away in a bag. I hadn't slept well, so I decided to give myself an extra 15 minutes of sleep. Fritz had other ideas. It was, after all, time to eat. I trudge down the stairs to feed him and see the mess. Someone (my guess is Jynx, but I cannot prove it- yet...) had gotten into the bag of fish supplies. He got out the box that was in the bag of fish supplies. He chewed open the box that had been in the bag of fish supplies. He got out the canister of fish food that had been in the box that was in the bag of fish supplies. He got the lid off the canister of fish food (say it with me) that had been in the box that was in the bag of fish supplies. He sprinkled fish food flakes all over the floor, thought he'd eat some, and then when they didn't agree with him, barfed on the carpet.

Even though I was already (intentionally) 15 minutes behind schedule, I couldn't very well leave the disaster that had occurred in the time span of three hours between when the husband tried to sneak into bed without waking me and when I got up. Three hours. Plenty of time for mischief. And red vomit on gray carpet. Throw food in the cat bowls. Trudge back upstairs for carpet cleaner, the handheld vacuum, and an old towel. Back downstairs. Vacuum (sorry sleeping husband). Spray. Scrub. Repeat. Currently 45 minutes behind schedule. Typical leisurely morning preparation for work is out the window- now I am at risk for actually being late to work. Throw the towel over the wet section of carpet (sorry landpersons, I'll try to remove the stains later). Scrawl quick note to husband so he's on alert for more puke. Begin morning routine in high speed. Don't forget to take Siggy and Freud to work (sorry guys, I'll get you more food tonight, you'll be okay for one day, right?).

Phew. Barely made it on time (thank you traffic for actually cooperating today!). I wonder if I'll still have two cats at home after work today...

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