Three cats in the house makes life three times more interesting, I suppose. Interesting isn't always a good thing. Take today, for example. I went out briefly, and by briefly, I mean I was outside about twenty minutes, just running to the corner store to get some diet pepsi.
It used to be when I returned, Goten would be waiting for me, on the microwave cart. (Where he's not supposed to be, of course) I would give him "that look" he would chirp, I would decide he was soooo cute, I couldn't get too mad at him, I would pet him, and move him over to the stovetop, where it is okay for him to be. Chrissy would be in the living room, no doubt getting all miffled about something. If Goten wasn't on the stovetop, he was on the floor, waiting to kill me, by tripping me.
Now with three cats, I walk in and it's completely different every time. For example today I walk in and Goten is on the kitchen table, making marfing noises, letting me know he's upset. This is nothing too new, he's been in a state of almost constant upset since Jesse came into our lives. But, Chrissy is at my feet screaming at the top of her lungs, because *gasp* we are out of crunchies!. I've been a rotten owner, rationing them lately, because it seems rather odd that with Jesse, a two day supply for three cats last about three hours. We have to be careful with Jesse, least we end up with another cat the size of a large ham like Goten. I really don't want the lectures.
So, Chrissy is storming about my feet, saying in cat, "Feed me, feed me, look at me, I'm skin and bones! Feed me, you stupid human, feed me, feed me, feed me."
Goten is complaining. "Jesse eats all the dry food. Jesse drinks all the water. Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, I hate him. I hate being the middle cat. It's no fair. Put him out on the street."
The cause of all this catterwailing is standing on the microwave cart, on top of the microwave, a big no-no. Before I can scold him though, he leaps onto my shoulder and starts making these marfing, chirping, meowing noises, trying desperately to scramble up to my head. For some reason, Jesse wants to stand on my head, or lay down on my face. Not all the time, thank goodness, but enough so I'm starting to wonder if he wants to kill me too.
Since it's hard for a cat to get onto someone's head when they are standing, no doubt the noises he's making are, "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, let me stand on your head, let me stand on your head, c'mon, c'mon, I got my front paws on the top of your head, stop and be still so I can get the rest of me up there! C'mon, c'mon!"
The first thing I need to do is get the diet pepsi in the fridge, which I do, risking life and limb, because Jesse clings to me for dear life. Goten, angry at this, jumps off the kitchen table and begins to attack my pants. A long time ago, Goten figure out a deep, dark, secret. My pants are the root of all pain and suffering in his life. How he found this out, I have no clue, but he did. And ever since, attacking my pants is something he does. So, I've got a cat on my shoulder, trying to climb on my head, I've got a cat at my legs, clinging to me and biting my pants. Neither of them have stopped making a lot of noise, so it's like this;
"Mommy, Mommy, I wanna stand on your head, I wanna stand on your head!"
"I hate him, I hate him, get rid of him, if you don't get rid of him, I'll continue to chew on the pants of doom, get rid of him, get rid of him..."
And Chrissy, of course, "I'm starving and thus I am miffled! Fix this situation now! Dry food, dry food, dry food!"
I get the DP in the refrigerator, no small feat. Now I need to rectify Chrissy's problem and give her some dry food, but, I don't want to do that right away, because I really need to limit the amount of dry food they're getting. So, I decide to prolong the feeding by filling up the waterbowl space dome. This does not make Chrissy happy, so the entire time, she continues to cry angrily. "Mommy, Mommy, I need food, I need food, get me food! before I starve to death!"
Goten still attacks my pants. "Mean ole pants, I'll bet you brainwashed Mommy into getting that jerk of a cat! Mommy, Mommy, you have to get rid of Jesse, he's hogging up alll your attention and it just isn't fair! Kick him out, kick him out, kick him out!
And Jessie is trying desperately to climb on my head. "Oh boy, oh boy, your hair smells great, lemme climb on your head, lemme climb on your head. Stop moving and let me climb on your head!"
I get the water dome done. At one point, Jesse slides off me, onto the floor. Quite lucky for him, he's able to quickly dig his nails into my back, thus slowing down his fall. He lands near Goten, startling him, but fortunately for Goten, he's got his claws so firmly into my pants (and thus, me) that he's stable and doesn't go skittering off.
I take advantage of that moment to get the spacedome water bubbler onto the machine and replug it in. But, in order to do that, I have to kneel down on the floor, which means Jesse now can leap onto my back, run up, and lay down on the back of my head. "Head, head, I love Mommy's head!"
His victory is short lived as I reach behind him and pull him off my head, almost dislocating my arm, and stand up, placing him on the floor. Not to be thwarted, he leaps on the microwave cart and onto my shoulder again.
As I head for the dry food, Chrissy is still squawking. "Mommy, I am only seconds away from dying! Move your lazy ass and feed me!"
Goten is going, "Hate Jesse, Hate Jesse, Jesse die, your pants die, Mommy, die!"
And Jesse, "FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY I NEED TO STAND ON YOUR HEAD, RIGHT NOW!"
Finally, Mommy loses it. I put Jesse on the floor, grab Goten and take him off my pants and look at the cats. I don't yell, I'm trying not to yell at my cats, but in that "I'm-not-messing-around" voice, that cold, clipped voice, I say, "Mommy needs a little freakin' peace and quiet. Mommy is going to the bathroom, no none of you are coming, Mommy will take care of a few things and then, and only then, will you get fed, Chrissy, then Goten, I shall pet you for a bit to calm you down, and Jesse, I will sit down on the couch so you can climb on my freakin' head! Satisfied?"
Without waiting for an answer, I stomp into the bathroom.
When I come out, the three cats are standing, staring at me. Chrissy's brow is furrowed,as if she's not sure who I am, but she knows I'm not her Mommy. Goten's head is pulled back in that wary look, and Jesse's head is tipped to one side. And I can hear their little telepathic voices. "What the heck is wrong with Mommy?"
"She's being awful cranky."
"I don't know why, she's got nothing to complain about!"