Cat Scratch Fever

Lately I have felt a strong level of irritation directed at our two cats, Lorenzo and [Stinkin'] Linda.  I am aware that there are a great number of people in the world who dislike cats entirely.  I am not one of those people.  While I would prefer a dog as a pet, I have found that owning a cat has it's benefits.  I do not have to walk a cat outdoors in the middle of a snow storm.  I can leave our cats all day and not have to feel guilty.  They poop in boxes (which smell very foul and have to be cleaned very regularly).  Yes, there are nice thing about cats.  But in the past two months, I am beginning to think my two cats may be sent here as a test from God.  

Here are some current examples to back up my frustration:

Last week I was startled by a noise as I slept in the early morning.  It made it's way into my dream and it took me several seconds to wake up and understand what was going on.  There was a cat very actively gagging and hacking right above my head.  I quickly picked him up and chucked him to the ground where he spewed forth a large pile of barely chewed food.  He walked into the hallway and repeated the favor.  Can you think of a better way to start your day than having a cat nearly vomit on your hair and pillow?

Linda, our young, feral cat, who was recently adopted from a nearby Petco, has a problem with eating.  She wants to eat all the time and hunts our food with the ferocity of a predator in the night.  Just now, I put a plate of scrambled eggs on the table and turned around to get a fork.  When I turned back, I found Linda with a huge egg chunk in her mouth.  I threw her down and she contentedly kept munching on that big egg.  What a jerk.  She had just finished eating her food minutes earlier.  

Both Linda and Lorenzo have an obsession with sleeping on me at night.  All night they jockey for the best position, which includes my face, my chest, on my back, anywhere.  One cat is 16 pounds and the other is about 5 pounds.  When they eventually find their place, they usually start licking themselves or each other.  I find the sound of animal's licking anything to be infuriating to my senses.  I can't handle it.  All night, I throw them off of me.  I shove them onto Mark.  I heave them to the floor.  But then, I fall asleep and they creep back up.  Why don't we close our door you ask?  Because then we can't hear Eli calling us in the night (as he so frequently does).  

Here is the last one I will mention, though I could go on with my complaints for another 20 minutes.  A few days ago, I sat at this computer, high up on a stool.  I was minding my own business when suddenly I felt a stabbing pain in four spots in my back.  Linda had jumped from the floor straight onto my back and was using her claws to stay there.  I screamed and tried to throw her off of me but that just tore my flesh further.  Bad kitty.  She's getting declawed as soon as we find a $200 check in our mailbox.  

I do actually love these needy, vomiting, fighting, annoying animals.  I like to snuggle them when I watch a movie (provided they don't lick).  I like when they run after their toys and slide on the wood floor into the wall.  I like that Lorenzo is a super-star athlete that can catch flying toys in his paws.  I will keep these two dirty cats, but for now, I want you to know, they are making me crazy! 

Here's some pictures of the jerks.

  

Poopy Books

Today Eli and I took a little trip to the library.  On the car ride over, I had given Eli the library rules to follow.  There would be only whispering and he would have to hold my hand the entire time.  As we walked in the door, Eli clearly did not have the whispering part down.  He loudly questioned the location and the very purpose of the library.  I explained to him that the building was funded by the state and our taxes help keep it running.  I told him that a library is an excellent alternative to buying books and reading them only once, but that this particular library was very poorly stocked and seemed to only carry books from 1972 to 1987.  Eli seemed satisfied with this explanation and his voice quickly lowered into a whisper.  He obediently followed me around the fiction section, needing only a small reminder here and there to stay quiet.  He was happy to stand on the little rolling stool and push the books back about 4 inches each (sorry to the librarian).  

Moments later, I heard a small popping noise.  Eli smiled and whispered to me that he farted.  I nodded back at him.  Since he was not pleased at my response, he raised his voice to a shout and announced, "I farted!"  This time I responded with congratulations and we moved on.  At this time, let me describe for you the set up of the upstairs of the library.  There are rows of books around the perimeter and dozens of computers in the middle of the room that are occupied at all times by internet browsers.  There is very little space between the books and computers and voices seem to carry in the building.  Now back to my story.  Five or so minutes passed and suddenly from behind me I heard, "I Pooooped in the library!"  I rushed over to Eli and quickly hushed him but there is no doubt the entire room heard him.  We hid for awhile longer in the aisles of books before trying to sneak out.  If there was any question to the identity of the yelling pooper, the foul smell in our wake quickly answered that.  

So there you have it.  Another adventure with Eli and Lily.  Who would like to accompany us on our next outing? 

Two-Year-Old with a Vengeance

Something a little odd has happened. All this time, I thought I was raising a pacifist for a son. All of his toys have always been family and best friends; they've peppered each other with kisses and hugs. Then suddenly a change has taken place. Without warning, Eli's games have changed. Today I watched him as his alligator's ate the legs of the pelicans while Eli shouted, "I'm biting your legs!" Then the Tyrannosaurus Rex stomped the farm animals into a plastic graveyard. Where did this come from? The TV he watches certainly does not have any violence or carnage in it, instead it talks about traveling the world to save little musical instruments, while appreciating fine art.

Here is the worst part. Recently, Eli has been using his little plastic baseball bat to sever our limbs. He slices my legs off when I first walk in the door and sometimes beats his stuffed animals with it, it's like we are living in a scene of "Menace to Society".

What is going on? Is this a testosterone thing? Is it more evidence of fallen man? Can we turn back now and get his animals to make-up and stop the domestic disturbances?

Maybe I just need to put on that Care Bears movie from the pink case and see if that does the trick. He'll be "Care Bears caring" everyone from now on and it will be shining from a shape on his stomach.

Bedtime Songs

If you think you are a talented singer and have advanced knowledge of the alphabet, please watch and reflect on the following video.  You might change your mind about your own skills when compared to the excellence exhibited by my son.  

Love Thy Neighbor

There are many things that might suggest we might live in too close a proximity to our neighbors.  We live in a townhouse that shares two walls (how many more could you share? maybe four if you lived in a box with no entrance or exit).  I might add that we are no longer trying to sell it in this downward spiraling market, so I don't mind disparaging our location for fear that a potential buyer might be reading.  

It used to be that we had a very pleasant family living behind one wall, and a set of grill masters behind the other.  We never heard a peep out of the pleasant family.  Then, they moved out and the house went up for sale.  Now, someone has moved in that has a very loud dog that likes to bark at the wind.  The other night, I thought we had a dog trapped in our closet who wanted out.  But no, it was on the other side of the inch thick wall.  

Then, we have the opposite wall.  One of the talents of this particular neighbor is that he seems to be fantastic grill master.  He uses his grill almost every day: rain, snow or sun.  That means good eats for them.  He has been using wood chips in the grill, like some kind of smoker (don't ask me, we don't have a grill, and we don't really know how to use one - actually we had one in Utah but when we were moving out of our house, we thought it looked too heavy so we left it for the new owners).  This smoker he sets up, lets off a good deal of smoke (obviously) and makes the neighborhood smell like campfire.  The negative side of this is that the exhaust hole for my dryer is right next his grill (and consequently all the smoke it lets out) and somehow, the exhaust hole has decided to allow this serious smoke smell into the hole, up the hose, and into my dryer which is usually drying some newly washed clothes.  The result, as you can imagine, is load after load of laundry smelling like we just came in from the great outdoors (which is rarely the case with us).  Even when there is no laundry waiting for an exit, the smell seeps from the dryer door and stinks my whole house.  I thought I could stay on top of this and do laundry at different times, but he seems to grill everything from his Cheerios in the morning to the bowl of ice cream after dinner.  

So yes, we might live too close.  If my neighbors were writing this about us, they would tell you that our toddler wakes up crying at least twice a week and wakes them from their peaceful sleep (as a matter of fact, Eli is screaming right now and kicking the [shared] wall, so he doesn't have to go to sleep tonight).  They might also mention that someone, and I'm not saying who, likes to sing at the top of her (or his) lungs immediately after watching an episode of American Idol or the Sound of Music or believes she (or he) has an extraordinary talent...