Damn Cats!

 We have the extreme (dis)pleasure of owning four cats. In fact, I would almost go to say that the Wife is a Cat Lady, except for the fact that one of the cats is mine. One, mind you. Several years ago, the Wife started her collection with a random stray she found, wandering blindly across the road, its kitten-sized voice meowing its hunger, and its eyes all matted shut with gunk from being sick. It may have been better if she had not seen this kitten and just ran the damn thing over.

That orange furball became Rusty, aka Crack Kitty, Loudmouth, F*cking Cat, and many other monikers I have used for him. This is the one that can laze about in the backyard grass, but will try to bolt "for freedom" every time you open the front door.  I can't count the times he has made the escape, and someone drops whatever they have to chase and grab him before he gets too far. I don't. I say let him run if he wants. Maybe he won't come back. Except that one time... Once he got out, and I don't remember if no one saw, or what, but he was gone. The Wife noticed it that evening, and I made the comment "Good. If he wants to come back, he will". I hated being right. Three days later, I was sitting at my computer in the front room, and hear the front screen door rattling, a little loose when latched. I thought it nothing more than the wind might have picked up. Then noticed there was a regular rhythm to the noise. Three rattles, and a pause. Three rattles and a pause. I went and opened the door to see Rusty there, paw batting against the door to make it rattle. I gave him the stink-eye (though not as good as the Wife is able to do) and said "Well, at least you knocked" and let him in.

Crack Kitty.... man, this cat is nuts at times. When the Wife brought him in, he was sick. some kind of cat-cold. Ended up spending around $400 taking it to the Vet and getting medicines. I think the meds screwed up his head, or the cold was just too much. He will be nice and sitting there being petted, then get up and race through the house, literally up the walls when taking corners. Along with the mood swings, he just will out of the blue to do weird stuff. Plastic shopping bags are nirvana to him. Anyways, following Rusty, the Wife thought he needed company and we got the "runt" dog, Daisy.

I missed somewhere ion the beginning to mention, prior to Rusty, we had had a family pet, a dog named Spunky. After about 17 years, she had decided it was time and passed away. I was somewhat happy, at the chance to say "No More Pets" as the kids were getting older, and if we wanted to travel, we wouldn't have to make arrangements for a pet(s) to be taken care of. That lasted about 6 months, if that.

So now we have a cat and a dog, when I wanted no pets. The Wife never listens to my better judgement. When the MIL passed away, now almost two years ago, not only did we inherit the house, we also got her two cats, Scampers, and Nimbus. Both of them seem to have neurological issues as well. Then about a little over a year ago, I brought home Lucius, an all black stray that would not leave me alone. He's cool though. Lucius stays out of things he shouldn't be in, and enjoys some attention, then saunters off. He guards the house front well, from the guard perch at the front window.

So what brings up the story about the pets? The middle Son came by this morning after work - that means sometime around 5am probably. He had left his set of house keys for the old house on my desk in our study. Somehow, he didn't latch the door to the Study completely. Now, the Study is basically "My Domain". We have the computers set up in there, so I spend quite a bit of time between work and leisure in this room. It is a NO PETS ROOM - even for Lucius. 

I had heard a crashing sound at one point that had woken me. I figured the cats, probably Rusty, had knocked something off of somewhere. The second crashing sound I opened my eyes, and realized I was seeing a light on off the hallway. I got up to investigate and found the Study door wide open. I flipped on the switch and found Rusty, the POS cat, on my desk, knocking random items off the edge. I chased him out and shut the door, and started the clean-up. I looked over at the Wife's desk. Not a thing seems to be out of place. That butthead of a cat was only knocking things off my desk. Nothing was broke, thankfully as some were glass. 

Think the furball knows I don't like him? Damn cat.

PeacE