… is too many?

The house is small. Probably less than 800 feet all told. It’s shaped relatively stupidly as well. The kitchen, while square, is the only room that is. My room is twice the size, rectangular. Rhia’s room is pretty much exactly the same as the kitchen, and Carrie’s room is little more than a closet.

It’s stupid. Just sayin’.

I have over 500 books, and we’ve got countless movies. The knick knacks… I can’t even think.

But what really makes me crazy, absolutely beyond rational thought, are the animals. It’s my own fault; I didn’t say no when I should have. In my childhood, I went through many pets, not for the regular reasons but for one simple one. As soon as things became difficult with each one, my parent would eliminate the problem. I’ve seen it with other people as well; get a pet because they’re cute or making eyes at ‘em, then get rid when reality sets in.

It’s tough on kids, losing pets like that, and I wasn’t going to do it to my own.

Lately though, there’s just too many felines in one tiny house. I keep saying the old one, Malley, will go to the vet one last time very soon. It never happens. He is really starting to lose it though, so I guess… soon. That’ll still leave us with seven.

Our foster cat is making everyone crazy. He’s become… odd. He eats until he pukes, drinks until he pukes, messes just outside of the litter box instead of in it, and now… he really made me mad.

He pissed (‘scuse the vulgarity) all over my feather duvet. Whether or not it’s salvageable, I honestly don’t know. I love the guy, I do. He can be a massive sweetheart (and I mean massive) and there can be weeks go by when he’s a normal cat. But…

I’m worried that he’s picking up bad habits from Carrie’s dog, Sugar. Sugar is a purebred American Cocker Spaniel. Beautiful dog, when she’s shaved down. Thing is, she’s attached herself to Carrie, to the point where anything Carrie does that she sees and thinks is wrong, she punishes her. By leaving a mess on the bed. Or in the water dish. Or the food dish. Or her own bed.

Normal dogs don’t shit where they sleep. I’ve dealt with poodle temperaments before, I know cockers can be the same. Revenge is Sugar’s middle name. And it’s driving Carrie to the edge of her patience. See, Sugar thinks Carrie should stay home all day, and do nothing but pet her. Unfortunately, that’s not how it works. Carrie has a job (well, she will in two weeks). She’s not here all the time.

So Sugar shits. Wherever, whenever.

If you’ve got a cure for this, and/or for the cat insanity, besides ‘a trip to the farm’, feel free to post below.

TIA and TTFN…
<3 JL