Heart Attcat Part Deux

I know you're all verrrrry concerned about my quality of sleep last night after suffering through the Kittypocalypse, so I'll tell you. I slept fine. To the best of my knowledge, no cats entered my room or bed. I set an elaborate series of traps on the stairs that would alert me to the pitter patter of little paws, and all of them seemed to be in tact this morning.

Here's the thing. After making a few calls for support last night before bed, I came up mostly short. Claire (maybe rightfully so) was primarily worried about the welfare of the cats.

I texted Kim to see if she wanted to come sleep over one night so the cats could sleep with her (she likes cats) and keep me safe from the glowing eyes of feline blood lust. Instead of taking me up on that awesome offer, she replied, "I will pray for you." Sarcastically. Then I said that the cat gates were useless and I was scared. She said, "Make them higher!" I was all, "Maybe tomorrow." Then she's all, "If you don't, then they will come up." HELPFUL! I begged "But HOW could they have opened the door, though?!" She said "Well, one of them has thumbs." Which is kind of true (This is seriously my favorite part about this cat, though).

Anyway, after that conversation, I rocked back and forth on my bed. I was scared and nervous and tired from building all the alarms on my stairs. So I called Geo, looking for some of that unconditional love a couple is supposed to have.

"You probably just locked that one cat IN your room when you locked the other one OUT, dummy." Curse you, logical reasoning! Then he said, "You've got to relax. They are CATS. What's the worst that can happen?"

The cats sleep on my face and suffocate me. The cats eat my blankie and puke it up and I have to clean it. The cats poop on the floor and I slip on it in the morning and smack my face on the banister knocking out my teeth. The cats lick my toothbrush and I develop an insatiable hunger for salmon. The cats learn how to use my toilet and I have to wait for them to be done and then am super late for work.

Gee, I don't know, Geo, I haven't really thought about it.

Anyways, my dear, wonderful Facebook pals weren't much better. First, my aunt Sarah posted a couple Photoshopped pictures of me with evil cats and even one with a cat opening a door.

Then all the cat lovers helpfully pointed out that, apparently, cats can do everything, including opening doors. Oh, and cats are allegedly "AWESOME!" And maybe they are, but for a NON-CAT person, cats are cats. They poop in sand and don't care much for my brand of humor. (I tried singing them a song tonight about how we can be friends using whisk as a microphone and a giant sock as a hat, and they were non-plussed.)

But people were basically like "Pharon, obviously cats can do anything. They can build a house. They can write a book. They can knit a sweater with cute kitty hieroglyphics on it. They can clean wine stains out of bed sheets. They can solve complex math equations. They can build a rocket and fly to the moon where they can also rebuild an entire civilization where anyone can get married and everyone has a job."

Dudes? Cats are cats. Sure, they are smart...FOR PETS. Listen, I'm a realist. I pretty much guarantee everyone that the teacup piglet I will be buying this summer will not be able to open doors. Or knit. But it will be cute enough to get me out of speeding tickets.

Meanwhile, I just sat and tried to get the cats to come sit with me so we could have a Cat Chat about proper bedtime etiquette. They wanted nothing to do with me. RUDE. (Was it the song?!)

After about an hour of trying to impress the cats so they won't claw me in my sleep, I realized that they really couldn't care less about me. They shake their heads after I pet them. When I ask them questions like "Hey boys, did the mail come?!" They hold up tiny little swear fingers at me and stroll out of the room while they fart in my general direction. Okay, guys, I get it. Geez.

Whatever. For the time being, we are all perfectly happy not hanging out together. I better get ready for bed, though. Despite their obvious indifference towards me, I have a whole bunch of bells and chimes and nail polish towers to build on my staircase. Just in case.