Yeah, I'm rethinking this whole thing

I grew up in a 'cat family'. We had three when I entered the world. One was posessed by Satan so he was given away to a family friend and then promptly run over by a car. It was a better place after he was taken away. The other two lived until I was in my late teens. That's what I was used to: cats. The inconveniences and all. I felt as though the benefits outweighed the drawbacks. When we had to put them to sleep I tried to convince my mom to let us get two new ones. Start over. This time, I wanted to see them in the beginning stages, all cute and hyper.

No.

MooooOOOOM!!

No.

Fastforward a few years and I'm married and we are DINK (dual income no kids...man, we should have been rich) and guess what I want? Furry babies. We moved too much at the time to get anything living, including a plant. Three moves in one year, across country twice? Yes, that's too many. We came back to California and lived in Orange County for two years. I got a plant. I kept it alive. That in itself is a miracle. We moved back down to San Diego. My friend's dad got a kitten. Oh man, I loved that kitten (who now, is also posessed by Satan). I wanted one. She had litter mates just waiting to be adopted. I pleaded my case with my husband. I made a good argument. We went to see the others. I fell in love. The one I wanted was spoken for. I picked out my second choice. A tiny tuxedo male. Ugh. My heart. I wanted to take him home NOW. We needed to go shopping. Cats need things! Litter box, food bowls, angora shawl for the cold California nights. We went back to look at him again. There was one other kitten, unclaimed. She was the runt. Her ribs were visible through her fur. She was mangy. She was ugly. I wanted her. It took a little more convincing this time. "But they'll have each other while we're not home! They need a playmate!" He caved. We brought them home. They were covered in fleas. We got them cleaned up, fattened up and now they're seven.

I'm ready to disown them.

We taught them early to not use the furniture for a scratching post. They learned quickly. And then learned to wait for the people to go to bed and then do whatever they pleased and so I have $2000 worth of furniture in one room and $1000 in the other, ruined.

We had no problems getting them to use their box. They had an accident or two when they were babies, nothing else. Now I have a dining room covered in baking soda and needing to be steam cleaned every day. This, is recent.

I have a vet who requires no children to attend the appointments. I need to be sure they are not sick and then when that is determined, I will beat them (not really, don't send PETA my way) until they go back in their perfectly clean box.

We have fleas. For the third time in their seven years. My INDOOR cats have fleas and now have given them to the house. I've never had to advantage more than once. It's been twice and tons of chemicals on the carpets and nothing is working. I'm going to have to bring out the big guns and by some bombs.

We didn't have fleas or litter box problems when I had help (i.e. my husband was home). My baby looks like an abused, neglected chicken pox case (my actual baby, not the dang cat) due to her sever allergic reaction to the bites. My dining room is odiferous. I have no time for my regular to-do things (and yes, blogging is on that list!).

It's a good thing those felines are cute and loved by my kids. Otherwise, this would be Bill's perfect opportunity to convince me to send them off to kitty boot camp.