Lately I've noticed that there appear to be cats around when there aren't any cats around. It's not that cats were there in the corner of my vision and left before I directly looked. It's that there were no cats around in the first place, but I thought there were until I really looked. Of course there were no cats, but I was dead positive they were there. But they weren't.
This house has six cats. Several are so hyperactive it's like having seventeen cats. It becomes the norm to walk around knowing cats are at your feet every minute of the day, tails high and meowing their fuzzy heads off because they haven't been fed or petted or fed or petted or fed in the last five minutes, and when are you going to do something about it, bub? We're dying down here, feed or pet us before we come to a terrible end and you go to prison for life, you sick twisted cat hater, you.
There always seem to be cats everywhere you look, and even when there aren't there are, or seem to be. I'm in the bathroom shaving before going to work and happen to look down because out of the corner of my eye I saw a cat walk by the door in the hallway, but I turn and no cat is there. I check the hall but still no cat. The real cats are watching me with bored expressions from the living room, too far away to have walked by the door only seconds ago. I go back to shaving and a minute later as I am brushing my teeth I see a cat walk into the bathroom behind me, heading for the tub to get a quick drink from the malfunctioning faucet, but no cat is there when I turn to look. I stop brushing my teeth and look behind the toilet and in the bathtub and under the sink. No cat. I look out in the hall. The cats are still lounging in the living room, watching me. I stare at them. They look back in feigned concern. Did you want us? Is something the matter? Are we going to be fed now?
I go back to shaving—no, I mean brushing my teeth or something, I can't remember what I was doing. Damn cats. I use the toilet and now they all show up for real, sauntering in the door to see the human do something that, incredible as it may seem, doesn't involve kitty litter. They stay and watch and discuss the matter with each other, then they sniff butts goodbye and leave. They were really there that time, no doubt about it. I am washing my hands when another cat walks in behind me, and I turn but there is no cat there. I am positive a cat walked in. I look around, then I look out the door. No cats anywhere.
They are doing this to me on purpose. I know they are. They get fed and petted and their litter boxes (six) get cleaned, and they even sit on me demanding attention when I am doing something on the laptop I think is important. They don't care, none of them do. They are trying to drive me insane. They are doing it because they think it is funny, or because I am not giving them wet food every five minutes, or just because they can. I don't know why they are deliberately driving me mad.
But it is working.
This house has six cats. Several are so hyperactive it's like having seventeen cats. It becomes the norm to walk around knowing cats are at your feet every minute of the day, tails high and meowing their fuzzy heads off because they haven't been fed or petted or fed or petted or fed in the last five minutes, and when are you going to do something about it, bub? We're dying down here, feed or pet us before we come to a terrible end and you go to prison for life, you sick twisted cat hater, you.There always seem to be cats everywhere you look, and even when there aren't there are, or seem to be. I'm in the bathroom shaving before going to work and happen to look down because out of the corner of my eye I saw a cat walk by the door in the hallway, but I turn and no cat is there. I check the hall but still no cat. The real cats are watching me with bored expressions from the living room, too far away to have walked by the door only seconds ago. I go back to shaving and a minute later as I am brushing my teeth I see a cat walk into the bathroom behind me, heading for the tub to get a quick drink from the malfunctioning faucet, but no cat is there when I turn to look. I stop brushing my teeth and look behind the toilet and in the bathtub and under the sink. No cat. I look out in the hall. The cats are still lounging in the living room, watching me. I stare at them. They look back in feigned concern. Did you want us? Is something the matter? Are we going to be fed now?
I go back to shaving—no, I mean brushing my teeth or something, I can't remember what I was doing. Damn cats. I use the toilet and now they all show up for real, sauntering in the door to see the human do something that, incredible as it may seem, doesn't involve kitty litter. They stay and watch and discuss the matter with each other, then they sniff butts goodbye and leave. They were really there that time, no doubt about it. I am washing my hands when another cat walks in behind me, and I turn but there is no cat there. I am positive a cat walked in. I look around, then I look out the door. No cats anywhere.
They are doing this to me on purpose. I know they are. They get fed and petted and their litter boxes (six) get cleaned, and they even sit on me demanding attention when I am doing something on the laptop I think is important. They don't care, none of them do. They are trying to drive me insane. They are doing it because they think it is funny, or because I am not giving them wet food every five minutes, or just because they can. I don't know why they are deliberately driving me mad.
But it is working.
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Thank you for your insightful comments about stupid cats.