It’s almost 2 a.m. and I’m heading to bed because I have to take my kids to VBS by 8:45 a.m.
But I just wanted to tell you that our cat, Smokey, attacked our cat, Chestnut, again tonight. Normally we keep the cats separated through an elaborate system of opening and closing doors in sequence and sequestering cats in rooms away from one another . . . but somehow, our system failed tonight.
And the cats discovered they were in the same room and began to shriek and claw and roll around in a ball of murderous fur-flying rage. So, naturally, I sprang into action, grabbing a broom and screaming NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO.
The cats separated for an instant, then ran and resumed the vicious fighting. Chestnut broke free and fled under a chair. Smokey chased and so did I, waving my broom and yelling.
I prodded Smokey with the broom, fully expecting her to rip my face off.
She retreated a few feet away. Chestnut ran to semi-safety under the kitchen table. I tried to pick her up and she hissed at me, then gave me that scary cat yowl that made me think about every Stephen King movie I’ve ever seen.
Despite all the noise, no one woke up!
Chestnut finally sneaked across the family room into the boys’ room.
And I put the broom down.
I cannot take this drama.
Want a slightly used, extremely fluffy and possibly deranged cat?