Life at the zoo

I think it's time for an update on my psycho pets. As you all know well by now, my house is a depository for animals with issues. Reasonable people have reasonable pets....they have a cat or a dog or two. They do not have a house full of slightly disturbed felines or dogs with behavioral issues. Using this logic, I have come to understand, if not accept, that I am not at all reasonable or even slightly normal. You might say that Nancy is a person with a large and giving heart and you might be correct. The truth is closer to the large neon "sucker" that flashes across my forehead. I am a pushover of the highest order.

Usually I can maintain a certain degree of denial about the cats because they never congregate all in one place. The exception to the rule is the dreaded feline chain reaction event that always involves blood being drawn and glass breaking. Let me give you an example of this horror. Please be advised that you may find the description graphic in nature.

It starts with a completely innocent event like the unloading of the dishwasher. Quatro somehow manages to knock the box containing 32 cans of friskies to the floor whereupon in hits the dogs water bowl sending a spray of water across the room landing on Jenna who screams loudly and beats a hasty retreat. Unfortunately Jenna's scream has spooked Jet Black who has a talent for breakage, and he has leaped up on to the counter sending clean glasses clanking and breaking in to the empty sink, which has frightened Diego who has thrown himself off the counter knocking a 2 liter bottle of diet sprite to the floor where it lands with a force that blows the cap off and sends a geyser of carbonated fizz skyward, which sprays Dimitrius who is on top of the fridge, who launches himself off the refrigerator using my head as a launching pad to propel himself to a safe place thereby drawing the necessary blood. All I am immediately aware of is the scurry of kitty toenails and Dimi on my head. When the dust settles........the kitchen is empty and soda is dripping from the ceiling. A nanosecond has elapsed.

Aside from attacking my ass if it brushes the shower curtain, Dimitrius has another talent which I discovered quite by accident. I have learned that it is never safe to allow Dimi in to the bathroom ever. While leaning my head over the tub to wrap my wet hair in a towel, Dimi decided to jump on to my warm, naked back. OK.......now what.....I'm naked....I'm bent over...and Dimi is perched purring on my back.......oh shit. I elephant man over to the sink to encourage him to hop off....he's not having it. He purrs and kneads and holds on tighter....ouch!!!....ouch......OUCH!!!!! OK, this is getting serious. If I have to call someone to take this freakin' cat off my bent over naked ass I'm gonna need some kind of intervention or therapy or something to deal with it. So time is passing and I've decided to reason with Dimi, "honey....mama needs you to get off baby.........Dimi......honey........." Now I'm wondering what the success rate might be for a sudden, quick and forceful upright motion. I'm building up my courage and taking a few cleansing breaths when Dimi decides that my naked ass is no longer warm enough to warrant perching. He hops off and goes in search of a sunny spot. Catastrophe averted. Mental note: always check for Dimi before showering.

This is my life.......honestly..........is it any wonder I sought escape at the bottom of a bag of Funyuns? I think not. Is it any wonder that I medicate occasionally now that I can't eat myself in to a beached whale stupor? I think not. Am I the only one in the world this shit happens to??...oh I think I am.