Caterwauling

Katie Holmes is pregnant?!?! Aren’t we taking this fag hag thing to the extreme a bit?

This entry probably belongs on Maddie’s page, but we could use some light reading over here, and Kadi’s antics can provide just that kind of amusement for you at my expense. 😉

Some days, I feel like Jon’s character with his Garfield and Odie. Else I am Tom and Jerry’s owner. Either way, for as much as my pets hate each other, they love to collaborate to foil me, time and again.

Shining example:

I let the girls hang out on our second-floor balcony all the time. Mostly it’s because Maddie has a shit fetish and likes to drag her butt all around the house, sending me morse-code-type messages to buy new food or scoop the box or something like that. As I am often in olfactory hell, I like to have the windows/doors open to air out the place. (Note that I have eight — EIGHT — plug-in air fresheners and four cans of Febreze Air Effects.) Thus, the kids play outside.

They love it.

Kadi, however, is not a pure housecat like Maddie. At least one of Kadi’s parents was feral, which means that I cannot fully break her of her wild ways and turn her into a domestic priss like her big sister, who couldn’t give a shit (ha! pun!) about anything other than flopping on her back and snoozing the day away.

That said, Kadi loves bugs. Bugs, bugs, bugs. She catches ’em, kills ’em and brings ’em to Mommy. Which would be me. Ewww.

I don’t have a problem with dead bugs — that’s the way I like them. And that’s why the good lord invented the dustbuster — for when my proud child likes to bring in her treasures.

In any event, Maddie is one furry motherfucker and she pukes all the goddamned time because she is always full-o-hairballs. So I am very strict about what she eats because I was not born to scrub carpets (although, in my house, you’d never know that!).

That said, I saw Maddie sitting inside the sliding-glass door last night, chewing on something. As I had fed them dinner long ago and it was NOT anything she could hold between her paws, I got suspicious. I went up to her, and she freaked out and thumped her plus-sized puss ass behind one of my chairs.

The kid’s almost 10 years old and is 20 pounds — seriously, I don’t have to make much of an effort to catch her. Usually, anyway.

So I went to get a better look at what was in her mouth (a big old BUG) and I decided to lunge for it and extract it from her. But in a RARE burst of energy, she hightailed it under the dining room table, en route to the bedroom.

What would normally have been a clear shot at catching her was FOILED by her sister Kadi, who is lightning-fast and also who managed to jump onto the glass (*sigh*) dining-room table. This is where Kadi expertly and deftly knocked a bottle of Febreze onto the floor … AT MY FEET … at exactly the moment I was about to grab her big sister.

Yes, I fell ass over teacups because my baby cat somehow threw an obstacle at my feet to prevent me from catching my fat cat.

Oh, the humanity.

I wasn’t injured — I am klutzy and fall all the time, so I have gotten pretty graceful about catching myself throughout the years. I thought it was pretty funny, actually — until Kadi came up to check on me and decided to flatulate in my face.

The End. (In more ways than one!)