Aside from the fact that we were “traveling” home when the incident occurred, this post has nothing to do with travel. This is a rant. A long, expletive filled rant. You were warned… so no complaints about how this wasn’t what you expected.
You know when you’ve been on the road for a while, and it’s near the end of your trip and the only thing you can think about is the comfort of your nice, warm bed waiting for you? You fantasize about how you’re going to set down your bags and jump into the fluffy comforter and inviting pillows. Your room will be just as you left it- even cleaner if you’re lucky, and you’ll peacefully drift off to sleep. (Cue the angel choir.)
Do you want to know what we walked into today when we finally arrived home at midnight after a long day of travel? You probably don’t, but we’re going to tell you any way.
Shit. We arrived home to shit. It wasn’t just a little “mess” in the center of the bedroom. It was sprawling. It was an African savannah of shit. It looked like the Dark Lord had returned and detonated (expelli-anused) a cat. A cat that had a full stomach. Multiple cats even.
It got progressively worse as we entered the room. At first we only saw a few splattered puddles, but as we continued on we saw the carpet massacre that lay before us. It was a run on sentence of feces. A catastrophe, a fecal fiesta, if you will. It was a scene straight out of CSI except neither of us wanted to examine the
blood shit spatter and we already knew who the culprit was.
It should be explained that we took the long journey to Chris’s mother’s house. This is not the work of our sweet angel kitty, Ares. No. He knows better. This had to be Lewis. The same deceitful Lewis that jumped on Chris’s chest to be pet and then proceeded to expel all of his bodily fluids on him. The Lewis that will beg to be loved and then bite your hand.
We’ve already thought of numerous scenarios on how to get our revenge. One involves leaving our own “presents” in his nice heated kitty-bed. Another includes his favorite toy mouse sans head. Maybe we’ll dump all his catnip down the toilet. Whatever we do, it will be grand.
Needless to say, after about an hour of vacuuming and scrubbing, we are pooped. If you made it through this rant, we applaud you. The moral of the story is… whoever said “cats don’t give a shit” is wrong. So very wrong.