It’s been too long –

I’m going to make it my mission to update the blog as much as possible in the next few weeks. I have lots to report!

First of all, that cute, fuzzy little kitty the man-friend was so insistent upon getting….. It’s a devil spawn. If you’ve seen it, you are probably really confused because it is the cutest, fuzziest, most adorable meow-er ever created, until about 4:30 in the morning.

When miss Jackie-O decides it’s time for everyone in the house to be awake, by gosh it’s time. Have you ever read How to tell if your cat is plotting to kill you? Seriously, this is my life. The cat wants us both dead.

It starts off very sweet and, dare I say, cute. You’ll get a sound almost like a pigeon coo in between purrs. Then the noise stops. Good, I can go back to sleep. Go snuggle on the couch with your sissy. Nope.

Then comes the nails on the chalkboard. That is, if the chalk board is the side of our mattress. In a house with 4 kitty scratchers and countless rugs that you’ve already wreaked havoc on, you’re really going to choose the side of the $2000 pillow top mattress to sharpen your claws on?

Okay, fine. I’ll just go back to WHAP! Whoa, what the hell was that?!?!?!?!

“Shut up, cat” I hear from Tyler’s side of the bed which he would complain I have reduced to a corner by this time of night.

What good is smacking the side of the bed going to do? Oh well, she stopped so I’m going back to sleep. Scrape, scrape, scrape. Ugh. Seriously?

Then the meowing starts. You would think this cat had been de-clawed, had her teeth removed, and put inside a box with an over sized rat and a bunch of lettuce for 4 days. Who’s killing you, animal? My god!

Finally, I’ve had enough. It’s 5am by now and I have to get up in 2 hours. I’m closing you in the 2nd bedroom. Nope.

After finally rounding up the fuzzy one, Spooky realizes what’s going on and decides she’s not going down with her sister. Both cats have to go in the room together where the litter boxes are to prevent accidents. And much like us, the big sister doesn’t want any part of this whining, crying, annoying mess the rest of the night.

Do you know what it’s like trying to catch a black cat in the pitch black house at 5am? Let’s just say, my toes hurt. So those are my nights in a nut shell.

The kicker is, who gets blamed? “You were the one that wanted cats” I hear. Really?

I love the little fuzzers, but hell. Can a girl get some sleep?

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