Y’all have asked for a movie or sound clip of Myrtle doing her hellbeast thing, and I’d like to oblige except (1) the camcorder is broken and there’s no place in the area to have it fixed, so we’ve ordered a new one, and it’s on the way. (You think I could sell the old one on eBay, even though it’s not working?) and (2) I never know when she’s going to go Hellbeast on us. However, once the new camcorder is here, I’ll happily do an imitation of her for y’all.
Last night I woke up around 1:30, pinned to the bed by cats. Miz Poo was next to me, Sugarbutt was against my hip, Mister Boogers was up against my legs, Myrtle was draped across my feet, and Joe Bob was sprawled out in the cat bed a few feet from my legs.
And I really had to pee.
Some cats are better about getting off you than others. Sugarbutt, if he feels me shifting, will shoot off the bed like he’s been shot out of a cannon. Mister Boogers is the exact opposite – he goes into Melted Kitty mode, and no matter how much you push at him, he doesn’t move at all. You basically have to lift up the comforter and pour him onto another part of the bed, and then he lays there and gives you the Look o’ Het.
I finally got myself untangled from the various cats and walked across the bedroom. In the middle of the room, I stepped on a toy mouse, and it HURT, so I stumbled and swore my way across the room, finally running into the bathroom doorway and regaining my balance.
Today, my foot hurts. Cats and their toys. It’s worse than having a bunch of little kids. At least kids, you can train to pick up their toys (in theory), whereas cats never will.
When I got back into bed, I dreamed that I was living in Smallville, and the hallway between the master bedroom and the bathroom was littered with cat toys. I’d pick them up and pick them up and pick them up, only there were thousands more to take their place.
Possibly if I stopped buying toys for the cats there wouldn’t be such an issue with them scattered everywhere, but I guess cat toys is my other illness. I see a book I want, I’ve gotta have it. I see a toy the cats might like, same thing.
Spoiled rotten brats. The cats AND me.
Apparently he likes to sit around with his foot hiked up over his head, and watch the other cats play. Don’t ask me what that’s all about.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.