My Cats

I have been told many things about a Blogger's first post. Things about how it should read and the things it should say about you. It must be funny and informative - clever, but not know-it-all. In fact, it must be many things that I am not. I am, however, fucking hilarious. So, ladies and gentlemen...

My Cats. They are trying to kill me. In fact, as I am sure all the "sane" people are aware of - ALL cats are trying to kill me. Most are just not up to the level of mine. My cats have dedication dammit. And do you know exactly how they are trying to kill me?  I'll tell you how.


With a feline window-licker's sense of attachment disorder rage.

This is not random blathering on my part - oh no. This is a study in just how much it takes to break a woman. For example. Today I came home, expecting to find my freshly cleaned, wonderfully controlled environment ready and waiting for me. My expectations were disappointed. Instead of and OCD haven of loveliness, I was greeted by a ravenous hoard of attack cats - lying in wait no less! - aimed and already firing at my tender bits.

Have you ever watched a scary movie, where the useless heroine runs behind a door, only to hurl her back against it upon discovering she has just chosen to hide in Satan's pleasure dungeon? That woman? That woman is me. A speeding harpoon of feline fury hailed upon me with enough G-force that we are all lucky I didn't break that poor, battered little door. I had a split second to think 'Sweet Jesus what do they want?!" before it hit me (along with 20 bruising pounds of pure cat-rage) - they want the fuck out.

Now I could use even more adjectives to explain just how life-alteringly traumatic this was for me. Enough to make the Grammar Nazi's run screaming into the night. But you know what? At this point, I have given up. So it is like this that I shall recite my horrible tale of terror and tragedy. Cold and Factual. Excuse me a moment while I find an appropriately bleak font.



9:08 pm - Come home.

9:08 pm - Attacked by cats

9:09 pm - fight my way to the kitchen for a lighter & cigarettes

9:22 pm - Make it to the kitchen only to find there is no lighter

9:23 pm - Attacked by cats

9:50 pm - Survived cat attack

9:55 pm - Smoke cigarette and barricade myself in bedroom

...

3:45 pm - Husband is home

3:46 pm - Husband lets cats into the bedroom

3:46 pm - Attacked by cats

3:46 pm - Give up and try to sleep through the claws

3:50 pm - Miraculously survive cat attack

3:51 pm - Pray for death as opposed to recovery

3:52 pm - Attacked by cats

Anyone else seeing a pattern here? 

And now if you will excuse me, I need to go fend off said cats and participate in some very critiquing and possibly negetive self talk regarding this post. :)