Revenge--The True Holiday Spirit

Tis the season . . . for revenge. Not an evil type revenge and not on any person, but on our pets. It all started a few weeks ago. First, Binny, our cat, got tired of falling off the washer trying to get to her food. It was bad enough, to begin with, that she took over as my alarm clock. Whenever she decides it's time for me to wake up and feed her in the morning, she clamps down on a hunk of my hair and yanks. It's like that fly you just can't get rid of. No matter how many times I try to cover my head, she keeps finding hair to pull. No matter how many times I push her off the bed, she comes back, walking all over me and howling. And yes, the noises she makes can only be described as howls. She's so loud, it just echoes through the house.

Her morning wake-up techniques were bad enough--until she refused to jump onto the washer anymore to get to her food. Okay, so hse has gotten a "tiny" bit fat, and maybe the floor does shake a little when she jumps down (no, I'm not exaggerating). Anyway, she apparently jumped and slid off the front of the washer one too many times. After that, she simply refused to try anymore. Jeremy and I both tried the "tough" love approach, but really, you can only listen to those howls for so many hours in a row before you just give in. Thus, after weeks (okay, maybe it was only days) of listening to the howls, then conceding and lifting her to her food, we finally gave in. Now she eats on (yes, not at but on) the kitchen table, where she can easily jump onto a chair then onto the table. Jeremy says having the cat eat on the table is just another sign of our slippage into redneckdom. It does make conversations a little difficult sometimes when there is a gigantic cat in the middle of the table obstructing your view of the other person. However, since Binny is the Queen of Manipulation, she also now comes and begs for us to lift her into our laps, and half the time, she uses us so she doesn't have to jump onto the chair to get to the table.

Then there's Audrey. Audrey has some sort of vendetta against our bedding lately. I came home from work a few weeks ago to discover tiny little feathers all over our bedroom. Apparently, she somehow snagged her claw in the down comforter and, yep, feathers everywhere. Every time I tried to sweep them up, they'd just start floating through the air. The worst was the fact I have absolutely no sewing skills. It's sad to say, but I only learned how to sew a button back on a few years ago. So poor Jeremy is stuck using this teeny tiny sweing kit that I still have from Freshman (high school that is) home ec class to sew up the tear. Let's just say, it's not very pretty, but if left up to me, I probably would have found a roll of duct tape and then been very pleased with my "ingenious" repair (much to Jeremy's chagrin, I use this repair technique for a multitude of things, including hanging Christmas lights and moving cds without removing them from the cd stands).

However, Audrey was far from finished with the bedding. Every so often, Audrey will have seizures. We have no clue what cuases them, but they are typically very infrequent--sometimes only one per year. When she does, though, we all have to make sure she can't hurt herself, then leave the room because when she comes out of them, she's very disoriented and thinks everything is a threat. So, Audrey has a seizure around midnight. For about ten minutes, Jeremy and I are stuck in the freezing kitchen, our two sources of heat (a small, electric heater and a large kerosene heater) stuck in the bedroom with Audrey. To top it off, she has it on the bed, so one entire set of bedding, including the newly patched comforter, is now quite stinky (to put it mildly) and quite unusable. We spend about half an hour cleaning up the bedroom--pulling off bedding, washing things as best we can, scrubbing spots on the floor. Two hours later, she has another seizure. This time, I didn't even manage to grab my glasses. Once again, we're huddled in the kitchen, freezing our butts off. Jeremy then asks me where something of his is on the table. Like I can see anything--not even my breath--without my glasses. We finally get back in the bedroom, and yep, another set of bedding down. I pretty much decided that Audrey thought we needed new bedding. She's never been known for subtlety, but I can think of much better ways to indicate this. I'm prepared now though--two new sets of sheets, two new pillows, and a new comforter later.

Finally, there's Jack. Jack who will eat anything. Somehow, he managed to knock over the garbage can. I always know when it's him because he runs whatever "treasure" he's found back to his pillow. This time, he really made out: empty cheese wrappers, a bag of potato peelings, an empty container of cottage cheese, and various other "delights." During his little romp through garbage wonderland, he also managed to disperse a ton of coffee grounds all over the kitchen floor. So, when I walk in the kitchen door, there he is, just laying on his pillows, surrounded by all his luscious snacks, tail thumping, and looking so proud of his "hunt." I just sighed and grabbed the broom. At least it wasn't plumber's putty this time, so there wouldn't be dog yak to clean up later.

Now the revenge comes for all the wonderful pets. For Audrey and Jack, I bought antlers. Audrey's slide around her head when she moves. Sometimes they're on top of her head, sometimes they stick straight out the side like a weird growth, and other times they're just stuck under her chin, making her look like she has a tiny pair of arms sprouting out. Jack's stay in place much better, but I keep accidentally putting them on backwards, so it looks like he has little, red devil wings sticking off his head. Both of them have tried pawing them off, but they fit so snugly that they don't budge. Eventually, they just give in. I have to say, once resigned, they both have an expression similar to that of the dog in "The Grinch that Stole Christmas." I would feel bad, but. . .

For the cat, I bought a Mrs. Santa dress made for a small dog. I looked at it and thought it might be a little small for Binny, but I seriously misjudged her girth. We can get it on her, but can't fasten the velcro underneath. Instead of looking lik a Mrs. Santa dress, it looks more like a kitty corset (or, as Jeremy calls it, kitty shapewear). It's not that it's squishing her, but the front of it fits appropriately, making her look somewhat trim and svelte. The mid section to back of it is another story. That's where it starts to look like everything is just sort of oozing out of the dress. Then when she waddles around in it. . .

So, I'm getting my little revenge this holiday season. The only thing I still need to do to make it complete is somehow get all the animals with their holiday wear into a photo with Bob the Skeleton. Great, just as I'm finishing this, Audrey has gotten one more bit of revenge on me. She just farted and now I'm evacuating!

Happy Holidays!