Drat him, and drat him hard. As soon as I can breathe, hear, and see (my eyes are a bit swollen) I am going to head out of doors to beat him with the largest stick I can find. Evil little bastard. This particularly keen allergy attack, ironically enough, began last night in the middle of a giggle fit over our cats, our dog, Didgeridoo Boy, and a chair. Why don't we focus on that for a while?
I take it I've discussed the fact that we have two cats who hate each other, right? And I don't mean the occasional growl and hiss, I mean full-on fights on a daily basis. We've had Foot Foot since November, and she seemed the perfect little sweet, round calico. On Christmas Day, we brought Didge's cat, Foster, to live with us. He'd told me Foster was something of a badass, so when he tried to introduce them I thought the resulting growls were coming from Foster. No.
Those were from Foot Foot. And for three months straight, she's been hell bent for Foster leather. Until last night, their most spectacular encounter took place on top of the refrigerator. Well, unless you count the time they got into it behind the couch, which resulted in Foster flying off like the fastest bat out of the hottest part of hell, tripping me up, and nearly helping me shatter my tailbone. And there was that yowling tumbleweed episode down the hall....anyway, you get my drift. These cats want to kill each other, and are trying to give Didge, Totsi, and me nervous breakdowns in the process of trying.
Last night, Didge was sitting at "command central", his computer desk in the living room (everything goes through his computer on the wall o' entertainment). Foot Foot had been away all day - hiding somewhere in retreat from having had an attack thwarted, but since it was almost time for dinner, had mysteriously reappeared. She was settled nicely into Didge's lap, and seemed happy to be there. Foster was in the papasan chair, which was tilted like a bowl to give her a feeling of security. I walked into the kitchen to begin prepping dinner, and Foster decided to do what she does and dash in to steal food. We had a little argument involving a lot of scowling and a water bottle, but she finally decided to slink off into the living room and pout. Just one thing...
...when she pouts, she likes to go to Didge's lap. But Foot Foot was there, right? And enter Totsi, the ever-patrolling dog, who suddenly realized she needed to get to work and stick close to Didge to make sure nothing went kittybats. I heard Didge say, "Foster? Foster? No, ma'am!", followed by, "Help me." I looked into the living room to find him holding Foot Foot in his lap with one hand and Foster down on the floor with his other, all the while telling Totsi to back up a little. I asked what I should do. He told me he didn't know, but that things could be about to get bad. And it was at that moment that Foot Foot got a very sadistic-yet-pleased expression on her face and dug her claws into his thigh.
Well, something had to be done, right? So Didge let go of Foster, grabbed Foot Foot with both hands, and stood up. She launched as Didge sat back down, and he then tried to pin Foster to the floor over the other side of his chair. Airborne cat landed right in front of the dog, and they danced a bit. The dog ran backwards about three feet, and Foot Foot dashed underneath Didge's chair. Luckily, he had the good sense to get his hand off Foster and out of the way.
An epic hissy-pop battle ensued right underneath Didge, who had the essence of an "OH SHIT" expression on his face. And then they moved under the desk, right at Didge's feet - he moved, and quickly, while swearing. I ran back and forth in the kitchen while the dog did the same in the living room. No clue what we were doing - perhaps the excitement got to us. And then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over - Foster was dashing down the hall, and Foot Foot ran to hide upstairs.
This morning, Foot Foot's on seriously zippy patrol. She's been running....and running....and running. There have already been three major stare downs between her and Foster, and the ever-patrolling Totsi has had her hemmed in behind the entertainment center a few times. It's on. The shit will surely hit the fan before sunset. And Didge and I are both heavily fogged with allergies and not-so-able to contend with this effectively. And I have no freakin' clue what to say about any of it beyond that - I keep listening for the ominous jingle of kitty cat collar bells, wondering when the hell Satan's own calico is going to pounce.
So that's our morning. All in all, this a great way to get back into posting in a particular blog, don't you think?
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