Let Me Show You It

It's no surprise to those who know us well that we are rather embarrassingly obsessed with our cats. In particular the two kittens we got almost two years ago now, Jake and Elwood ("Woody" for short).

Hey, since grandkids have yet to be forthcoming, what else are we supposed to be weird about? (Hint, HINT!)

And for those who don't know us, all you have to do is look at the picture on top of this blog and you'd probably figure it out.

We even have a little cat door installed in the back door so they can come and go as they please because I didn't sign up to be their Personal Cat Butler. And no litter box, either, since the entire Great Outdoors is a giant sandbox in their eyes. It's great; I highly recommend pet doors.

Except for one teensy weensy little problem; they can go out, yes, but other things can come in.

Like neighborhood cats.

Who occasionally show up long after we've gone to bed to chow down on our cats' hard-earned food and hang out on our cats' lovingly purchased and clawed-up furniture whilst Daws and I snooze away, oblivious to the invasion. Much like many governments across the world, our cats are not feeling the love for their Feline Brethren; oh no. No, they do not want to share their spoiled lifestyle with anyone else, thank you very much. Whenever Outsider Cats get all Socialist on them, holding up little protest signs like, "Share the wealth!" and "We All Look Grey At Night!" etc., our cats say, "Screw you; we've got it made and too bad you don't."

The World would not benefit from taking lessons from cats on Sharing. No.

Unfortunately, establishing kitty territory is not a quiet process and invariably leads to a lot of caterwauling and crashing about as our cats' continually kickass on Stranger Socialist Kitties. Last night around 3am, a gawd-awful screaming erupted from the kitchen, causing me to shoot straight up out of the covers and land on my feet next to our bed before my poor, sleepy brain had even registered what was going on.

Brain: "Huh? Hey, what happened to my covers?!"
Body: "Intruder Alert! Flight or fight response NOW IN EFFECT!"

Within minutes seconds my bewildered brain had caught up with my Ready for Battle body and I rushed down the hall to "help" fend off invaders. Leaving my Daws behind in bed with his beloved earplugs, blissfully unaware of the assault.

Of course, once the Human Female made an appearance, the intruder kitty gave up and bolted outside through the cat door. Unfortunately, our entire Kitty Tribe bolted right after it; Luna, Jiggy, Jake and Woody all charged through the door after the cat and the horrible squawling began again but louder this time and close to our neighbors' houses.

Great. *sighs*

Since I sleep naked (shut up!) and had not stopped to put anything on before rushing into the fray, I ran over to our couch and, grabbing the big blue/red comforter we use as a throw during the winter, wrapped it around me and off I sprinted to break things up.

By this time our cats had chased the stranger cat onto the top of the fence between our yard and our neighbor's yard. They stood collected below, necks craned up, growling menacingly up at the intruder but I couldn't help but notice they were also sneaking little glances back at me to make sure I was backing them up in case the enemy decided to (gulp!) retaliate. Yeah.

You got "heart", dudes. Tell me.

Hissing and clapping my hands at the cat as quietly as I could so as not to piss off our poor neighbors any further, I finally scared it enough so it took off. Our cats definitely gave off an air of, "Yeah, that's right; we showed HIM! YEAH BOYZ! My Peeps!"

Wearily, I trudged back into the house, bare feet muddied and freezing, stopping by the bathroom to clean up before I joined my still soundly sleeping Daws back in our cozy, toasty bed.

Now, you'd think that that would be the end of it but oh no! No, our cats are NERDS. They insist on re-enacting such events and over again. Like the time they brought in a mouse and lost it in the house somewhere; for days afterwards, they would pantomime carrying it in, chasing it, catching it, throwing it up in the air several times, then losing it altogether, then searching for it in vain.

This is done is a comically dramatic fashion and always for our benefit. I know, because if we leave the room, they follow us to make sure we're still watching.

Which is fine during the day but not so wonderful at night.

Just as I began that blessedly floaty, luxurious, sweet sinking back into lullabyeland, I was jolted rudely awake by the sound of small elephants thundering down our hall as Woody noisily chased Jake up onto our bed. Jake poised on the bedframe, clearly pretending he was the intruder cat and Woody crouched below, obviously playing the part of the Family Hero Cat. They mock-glared at each other for several mock-tense minutes until Jake sprang off the bed to chase Woody down the hall, for all the world sounding like two giant sumo-wrestlers instead of two graceful felines. Even Luna and Jiggy got into the scene; darting back and forth between the two others, leaping about, mock-growling and re-enacting the Big Battle over and over again.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

This went on for two hours, while I squinched my eyes tight and tried to pretend it wasn't happening.

"Look how it went!" they seemed to be saying gleefully. "Mom! MOM! LOOK HOW IT WENT! It was like this....*pow*! And like that! WHAM! Look at us! We're AWESOMERS!"

Yeah. Okay. Whatever. Please...go to sleep. Please, you're cats, you're stealthy and all that. Show some stealth. Please, I beg of you.

Not a chance.

Since I kept ignoring them, or trying to, they finally resorted to jumping up on my nightstand so they could knock stuff off.

"BLAM!" There went a book.

"CRASH!" There went my lamp.

I hissed and clapped at them to no avail; too damn tired to get up and fetch the squirt-bottle to squirt their naughty asses.

Then they got behind our bed headstand and started crying and rummaging about, "Meow! MEOW! MEEEEOOOOWWWW!"

Oh
My
God

Needless to say, I got very little sleep last night. Right now, the brain is fuzzy and the body is tired. My Daws, however, woke up stretching and smiling brightly at 7am, saying he slept like a rock.

Sorry to say this news was met with a little grumpiness on my part.

Bad kitties. BAD BAD KITTIES! Laura got us a great picture for Christmas that shows a pair of cartoon cats with sunglasses saying, "They stayed up late! They trashed the house! And they didn't even care! They were...BAD KITTIES!".

THAT WUZ OUR KITTIES LAST NIGHT!

BAD BAD BAD!



Tonight the little cat door will be CLOSED!