My life was once perfect. I had the house to myself - the bed, couch, arm chair, floor, toilet lid, spare bed, desk, and anything else I could reach were mine. All I had to do was knock one of the other cats off the spot I wanted. I got moist cat food (Ocean White Fish and Tuna, you had better believe they figured that out when I turned my regal head away from any other garbage they tried to serve me) all the time, I got cat nip regularly, and I got to play with my toys wherever and whenever I wanted. I didn't have to run the gauntlet between a stupid baby gate and the basement - there were no "dog-free" zones because there were no "dogs".
I was a happy cat.
Then came dog 1. I call him dog 1 because I do not feel he is worth dignifying by the name Mama gave him, the one that she says with love and affection like she says my name. In fact, I'm not entirely comfortable calling dog 1 a "him". Gender implies some level of being, and being implies some inalienable right to existence without persecution. If I weren't so much smaller and stumpy-footed than dogs 1 and 2 I would persecute with extreme violence.
dog 1 (see? He doesn't even deserve uppercasing) got ALL the attention for awhile. Away went the moist food - dog 1 will eat ANYTHING (seriously. He eats kleenex if they aren't watching him. He even tries to eat my cat poop out of the litter box. How stupid can you be?). He eats my toy mousies. He even pooped a dead toy mousie once. Mama got mad but that doesn't stop him.
So dog 1 moves in and up go the baby gates, away goes the moist food, and my Mama time decreases dramatically. It was a hard transition, but I eventually got used to it. dog 1 and I came to a tense cease-fire. I felt I could come out in the not-dog-free zone without fearing for my life. He was too little to get me on the couch for awhile, but things changed again. Regardless, I put what was beneath me beneath me.
Then came dog 2. dog 2 is worse than dog 1. dog 2 chases me - CHASES me. She isn't afraid of my hisses and swats. She wants to kill me. The only reason she can't is because she is bigger and slower than dog 1. I hate her. I haven't had moist cat food in a long time. My mousies might as well not exist. My only Mama time is at bedtime now, but now that there are 2 dogs they have to sleep on the floor on Mama's side of the bed, and they pop up like sharks every so often and try to eat me. They are big enough to jump on the bed and couch now so nowhere is safe. I live in the basement, where my glamorous body gets basement dirt all over it and so *sob* bathtime comes more often now.
Then I find this online.
SICK SICK SICK SICK
Excuse me I have a hairball or two I need to deposit.