The Cat Came Back... He Just Wouldn't Stay Away

The other day Chris and I were standing at our respective sinks brushing our teeth while the kids hung around in our bathroom. Chris began telling me about an NPR story he heard recently about research showing that over enough time house cats actually do eventually drive people insane. I continued brushing my teeth while staring blankly into the mirror before me.
"Yes," I replied, "I am familiar with that."
"You heard that on NPR too?"
"No."

It all began way back... such a long long time back...
When Chris and I got married Max was not thrilled. In fact, one might say that he was pissed. That certainly seemed to be the case when it came to anything of mine left around that he could urinate on. So, we purchased bottle after bottle of hydrogen peroxide and, for a short time at least, I got better about not leaving things around for him to pee on.

One day soon after that I came home to find my cell phone cord had been chewed to bits. I thought only dogs did stuff like that. Clearly, Max felt I was infringing upon what had once been his raging bachelor pad. Eventually, after many afternoon naps together, Max came to accept that I wasn't going anywhere.

And then we brought home Olive.

"Yes," I replied, "I am familiar with that."

Our cats are slowly (or not so slowly?) driving me insane. There is always a phantom smell of cat pee (where is it?!), shredded door frames, and the constant threat of being suffocated by cat hair. These things alone, I can live with. But the cats realized that wasn't enough, so they've upped their game.

Olive has taken to walking s-l-o-w-l-y in front of me everywhere I go, darting and dashing when needed to stay just in front of me. "What? The baby is crying? Follow me!" cries Olive as she walks at a snail's pace lacing her body through my legs as I attempt to get to Nils. She employs this tactic anytime I head toward our bathroom too. Olive, like my children, believes that I should not be allowed to go into the bathroom alone.

Max concentrates his new efforts on ensuring sleepless nights. Just when Nils has settled down I feel the weight of daggers bearing a 20lb cat walking up and down my body. Max walks around on me periodically during the night preferring to then settle down in such a way as to take up my entire bottom half of the bed. He sleeps a little while until his internal alarm clock alerts him to the fact that it is time to jab me in the throat with a paw or lick me repeatedly.

"Yes," I replied, "I am familiar with that."
"You heard that on NPR too?"
"No," I said as I brushed my teeth and watched Olive's cat hair blow across the room like a tumble weed while she wrapped herself around my legs and Max sat crying next to a full food bowl. The smell of the cat box filled the air of our bathroom, just as it always does. I continued brushing my teeth, staring into the mirror before me. My skin was pale. My hair was wild. My stare was blank. My mouth was foaming with toothpaste.
"Yes," I replied, "I am familiar with that."
"You heard that on NPR too?"
"No, I'm living it."