Okay, you know I love my little cats, right? I’ve had them 16 years now, they’ve been wonderful little companions. They’re empathetic, cuddly, gentle little things. And so – I Should Not Complain.

And yet, I’m about to…

Grace misses Elliot so much, she hardly knows what to do with herself. She’s always been what I call “aggressively affectionate” (not unlike myself), but it’s getting ridiculous. I have to keep moving at all times, or she will sit on me, grab my hand with her pointy little paws and lick the skin right off me until I pet her. She follows me around the house, squawking constantly. Apparently I need to close the bathroom door more tightly. I had no idea I was so interesting.

Muppet has become even MORE territorial about her place on my bed. Woe be to Miss Grace should she even stick her nose in my bedroom door. The odd time, she’ll come up in the middle of the night to lick my face. It’s all okay, until the Muppet wakes up. You’ve heard cat fights outside your window in the night, right? That screeching, snarling, spitting tangle of claws and teeth? It’s startling, right? Try having it in bed with you. Yeah. That much fun.

Finally, on this edition of the Feline Complaint Files – when did we decide we don’t have to bury our poops anymore? On the upside, yes, I am grateful that they’re using the litter box. However (and that’s a BIG “however”) previously, we have done the appropriate burial rituals. For some reason – no. We just don’t do that anymore. Newsflash, girls. An unburied lump of cat shit in the litter box smells just as bad as one in the middle of the living room floor. BURY THAT SHIT, okay?

Funny what we can learn to tolerate. If anyone else pulled this nonsense, they’d be gone. But – I love the fuzzy little weirdos.


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