We went down to The Swamp for the long weekend.  We always stay at my parents’ house even though my in-laws live there too (I am more comfortable at my parents’, and I’m a brat that way), and even though my mom and dad were not at home this weekend we stayed at their house anyway.  It was kind of nice, having the house all to ourselves.  Until, that is, the animals decided to stage an uprising.

My parents have two cats.  Well, technically they are my sister’s cats but they live with Mom and Dad.  While I have always considered myself a cat person, but I don’t like these cats.  And the feeling is clearly quite mutual.

Offender #1:

 

Cute, right?  But don’t be fooled.  She is is evil and plotty and DERANGED (I’m sorry, Sher, but she IS) and would eat you if she could.  Just like she tried with me on Saturday night, when I had the nerve to reach for an item on the bathroom counter that she happened to be sitting near.  I made sure to take a picture of my bloodied finger and immediately e-mail it to my sister with no explanation beyond I refrained from kicking her little ass.  You’re welcome.

Offender #2:

This one isn’t quite as bad.  She’s old and was around when I still lived at home and so she knows me.  However, she doesn’t really like me which proved to be a problem on Sunday night, when she crammed her big fat self underneath my parents’ huge-ass bed, right up by the wall where she knew I couldn’t reach her.  So I tried the nice approach, calling her and making kissy sounds and trying to sweet-talk her into coming out.  No dice.  Then I tried prodding her out.  Nope, she just hissed at me and then moved to the other side where she was equally inaccessible.  So then I brought out the big guns – my husband and a huge umbrella.  Sorry, cat.

Offender #3:

 

GAH.  We don’t normally take the dog when we travel, what with the kids and luggage and whatnot it is just too big of a hassle.  But the kennel was going to charge us for five full days if we boarded her over the holiday weekend, and I’m sorry but that is ridiculous.  So we took her with us.  It was all well and good (well, the irritating clack clack clacking of her nails on the Pergo floors notwithstanding) until Sunday afternoon.  We left her locked in a bedroom (rather than crated) because she never does anything.  She doesn’t chew, dig, scratch or, you know, even stay awake.  We figured she was pretty trustworthy.  WRONG.  We returned from lunch at my in-laws’ house to discover that she had somehow managed to lock the bedroom door.  Five minutes and several screwdrivers later, we figured out why:  she had been clawing and chewing at the door frame.  Of the spare bedroom, in my parents’ house, WHICH IS GOING ON THE MARKET THIS VERY WEEK.  GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.  I was about ready to give her up to the huge German Shepherd across the street, I was so angry.  (And mortified.  Fortunately, my parents were cool about it and touched up the paint and now you can’t even tell.  But still.)

The bit players:

My in-laws’ yippy dog, who is clearly troublesome in her own right.  (Although this picture was taken a while ago.)  She kept trying to steal Miss T’s beloved Blue Doggie, but Miss T was not worried.  NO NO! she would say, while shaking her little index finger.

Our obnoxious cat, who let us know she didn’t appreciate being left at home alone for the long weekend.  Meow meow MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOW.

And my in-laws’ cat, who – to be fair – didn’t do anything.  (Literally.  He’s the laziest cat there ever was.)  But I felt I should include him anyway.