Cat’s of Satan

I awoke to the enchanting screeches of the cat’s of Satan last night, or should I say at 5 a.m. today which is not night, but a miserable hour to be awoken just the same. Not like I have it in for cats, but these beasts were LOUD. Scary Screeching beasts of Hades Loud. Like the sound of a driver breaking an 18 wheeler to avoid going off the I-80 interchange ramp loud.

The screeching felines of Satan arrived after just TWO previous wakeup calls from the bug. One for a pee deluge that required sheet AND blanket AND pajama change at 2 a.m.; the other, a 3 a.m. plea for a soft blanket. “Mommy, I want the soft blanket,” by which Bug means she wants me to remove the softer monogrammed purple blanket from her torso and replace it with the somewhat coarser, crappier IKEA stripey blanket. Then, and only then, I may go back to bed. This is all before the arrival of those bitchy cats in heat who chased each other around our stairwell for a good 10 minutes before trying to knock over the recycling bins. If that’s not a good argument for an urban arsenal I don’t know what is. And Jim’s dad, considering his experience with gophers and other random yard waste, could definitely train us to take these beasts out. (with apologies to cat lovers)