A sign I might need professional help

Now, in my spare time, I have something new to worry about.

I worry about Annabelle.  Is she lonely?  Does she have enough to do?  Does she need company?  Is she comfortable?  Is she happy?  Does she need a companion?

Yes, I have spent valuable brain power pondering the emotional state of the guinea pig that lives in my daughter’s room.  I feel responsible for the rodent’s happiness; nevermind that Annabelle doesn’t speak English and doesn’t know what “happiness” even means.

Meanwhile, Roy is clearly unhappy, judging from the stink eye she gives me when our paths cross.  Roy the Girl Cat slinks around like a schizophrenic striped ham with legs (no tail!) who is trying to avoid a coyote.  Roy has a personal problem, some mysterious angst she expresses by peeing on dirty clothes the boys leave in their room.

At least that is my theory.  How else can you explain cat pee on the boys’ laundry?  Surely Chestnut the semi-sane cat isn’t doing that?  Though who can tell?  If you have more than one cat or child, you never really can get to the truth of things without a little cooperation.

When I was a child, someone in my family left the back gate open.  I don’t know why that was such a crisis–maybe a dog sneaked into the back yard and left a deposit?–but my dad was so upset with us and demanded to know exactly who left the gate open.  I know it wasn’t me.  And my brother and sister also denied responsibility.

So, my dad spank*d each of us with a ping-pong paddle for the first and only time I remember.  When no one takes the blame, everyone feels the pain.  (Hey, that sounds like an actual slogan, but honestly, I just made that up.)

To this day, no one has confessed.

(I blame the cat.)