Animal Domination

I think my pets are fucking with me.  And really why wouldn't they?  I picture them sitting around their shared water dish; to clarify it's shared because I've tried a number of different receptacles for the cats to drink water out of and they will only drink it out of the dog's dish. Anyway, late Friday night after we've all gone to bed I imagine them sitting around the dish and doing stats.  Stats such as how many times during that particular week I was able to experience the joy of cleaning up their poop and/or vomit.  And bursting into fits of puppy and kitty laughter when they think back to the time I vomited while cleaning up the dog's vomit.  The dog's vomit on our less than a week old newly installed carpeting.  I'm sure that's a favourite.

Today one of the cats, and I'm pretty sure I know which one, decided it would be extra fun to shit just outside the laundry room door.  Which was open. Their litter box is in the laundry room. I had just cleaned it this morning so it was clean as I'm aware of cat's issues with cleanliness.  I swear to God she noticed I was doing a fair bit of laundry today and have been all week so thought she'd try and spice it up with me stepping into her poop while doing so.

Think I'm giving my pets too much credit?  I don't.  These animals have watched me clean up after their bodily functions for nearly nine years (cats) and six years (dog).  Why would they not think I am actually a servant of sort?

Same said cat who played the laundry room trick vomited on my bed while I was sleeping in it a few short months ago.  Nice.

So why not get rid of them?  Because, insane human I am, I like them and particularly enjoy my cats holier than thou attitudes and my dog's incessant good nature and love for cheese.

Sigh.  I will carry on bitching about the volumes of dog hair plaguing every inch of this house and article of clothing we own; about the cat puking after what seems like every time she eats; cleaning up poop inside the house and out and then, I will go to Petland and spend $35 for dog treats (that last time appeared to make him sick so he shit on the front carpet again (reference Family Day blog from February) and cat toys that they played with for all of five minutes before ignoring.

I guess this all begs the question of really who is the higher species?

             Callie                                                                            
                                                                                                       Melody                                                                                         

Toby

I'm Gross

Let me start by clarifying I'm not gross in the sense that I "eat my own dandruff". And if you don't get that, please stop reading right now and go rent some old SNL; preferably the best of Chris Farley. Now to carry on...right at this very moment, about four feet away from where I sit is some form of animal vomit. I'm pretty sure it's dog vomit. Why am I writing about it instead of cleaning it up? Because I'm exhausted. Plus I'm passively aggressively ignoring the vomit. If I pretend it's not there, maybe it won't be? It seems nearly every day I clean up some form of human or animal waste or excretement. Can anyone say glamour?

Why am I so tired? Bad night of sleep. Lots of fresh air yesterday. I slept well until about 3 a.m. when my ever loving husband began to alert the troops with his nasal passages and throat. Snoring. First a tried a few gentle taps to let him know I loved him but not the snoring. Eventually I gently laid a hand on his chest and asked him if he could maybe move (before I smothered him). And wouldn't you know it, without violence, my usual tactic, he stopped and it was quiet. Then my stomach rebelled. My stomach and I aren't the closest of friends...and last night I tested her limits with a combination of milk, ground beef (we had tacos for supper) and Doritos. My stomach is not a big fan of any of those things, nevermind all three in one night. So at 4 a.m. I was in my kitchen downing a big salty glass of Eno. Yum. Not. But that blessed stuff did the trick and back to bed I went.

Cut to the work day. Busy busy. Lots of people. People making me want to say bad words and drink. And just overall a busy day. Then I drove home from Regina and was fortunate enough to have a vehicle with an Ipod jack so...time for a dance party!! Yes, to burn off some steam I sang and danced a good portion of the drive. Point of interest, the minivan I was driving, which I believe is a Voyager (I don't know though) has excellent cruise control and steering. I could let go and snap and gyrate all with an impeccable sense of rhythym and keep well on the beaten path! FYI.

So lack of sleep, irrations, job stress and a dance party...and now puke. Hey Monday, how've you been? Ooo, one last thing, I did get to enjoy the scent of actual rotting human flesh today. In comparison the dog barf is not that bad....off to the paper towels I go.