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| The instigator |
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| The Quiet Tree Climber |
Have I told you about my hate/tolerate relationship with our two cats? Well, in case you need an update here is a quick review:
Kids had a guinea pig, which had a seizure and died in front of them on their first day of summer two years ago. I felt guilty and decided they needed a new pet. (KEY WORD: GUILT) The hubby was as
HE says: Minding his own business mowing the lawn. (He often demonstrates himself mowing the lawn whenever he tells the story which is A LOT!) I came out and waved him down and FORCED him to go to the place where you can get really cute kittens. TWISTED that arm of his, I did. Of course they were buy one get one FREE that day. We came home with two really cute kittens.
A month later we had two god-forsaken CATS.
This morning, I was being a GOOD GIRL, got myself out of bed at 4:30am to workout. As I dragged my tired and sore body up the basement stairs one of the cats is in the Christmas tree tossing ornaments down to the other not as adventurous cat, who is catching them and proceeding to play soccer with them.
Of course I proceed to condemn them both to that place residing below us and am running around with my towel trying to herd them into the basement (similiar to that place I just described because this is where the workout room is and where toys miraculously come out overnight and make a mess because of course no one else would ever make that mess- or so I am told.) Now I have managed to wake up the hubby and son at this early hour and they are mad at ME. Not the cats though.
Until about 4 hours later when I get a phone call from the hubby who is NOW mad at the cats. His scenario goes like this:
The kids and a boy he watches in the morning before school are “playing” with the cat to the point of him having to hide under the couch and not willing to come out. FOR NOTHING. The hubby is now in an extreme hurry so he does what any man would do and gets out the blow horn to SCARE the cat out from under the couch so he can put them both in the basement (the bad place down there) where they live when we are not home.
One goes down like a bat out of hell and the other, hides under the bed and will not come out.
FOR NOTHING.
Now the hubby is really aggravated (acting like I was this morning, I’m sure) and is forced to leave with one down in the bad place (the tree climber, thank goodness) and one up –away from his cushy bathroom too. (I really hope he has a strong bladder)
As the hubby tears out of the driveway, he hits a patch of ice and slides off the road. With the kids. Thankfully he drives a Jeep. So it’s just a minor off-roading adventure. I am SURE the neighbors hide behind their curtains and laugh at the mad man every morning that does his daughters hair, and tears up the driveway on the way out.
Fun time those cats give us. They really #$#$% do! FUN FUN TIMES.
