So let me put out a definitive statement. There is no more room at our house. Thanks for stopping by, now go home.
This Christmas has been a little stressful. One of our first time house guests picked a fight with just about everyone. The old homestead has rang with the sounds of youngsters thundering through the house and I've not had one damned moment of peace since Saturday morning.
Apparently Santa came early this year. Damn Santa.
Perhaps some background information is in order. Pay attention to the highlighted parts - or you won't be able to play along at home.
Do you remember last Summer when I blogged about our new dog, Lucky? (He's the boxer/pitt bull mix who had the really bad experience getting fixed.)
Jerame had gone outside to water the flowers and called from the front porch, "C'mere and look at this boxer!" Lucky had gone trotting past and had walked up to another neighbor's big concrete and wrought iron gate. He was standing on his hind feet and pushing the gate back and forth, rocking with all his might and making a heckuva racket. Jerame mentioned that the neighbor might be dog sitting since it obviously wanted (back) in so badly, but he didn't want to walk up there with such a crazed large dog standing at the gate. Never one for caution, I walked up and opened the gate.
He ran straight up to the lady's door and started "knocking." I rang the bell and when she came to the door she stepped outside. Lucky sat down at her feet and started to lick her knee.
HOUSEHOLD POPULATION: 3 humans, 3 dogs
While Lucky had come knocking at our neighbor's house, he ended up living at ours; he's been here since July. He's a big dumb galoot who makes us laugh every day with his silly antics. While I wasn't too keen on him taking up residence here, I've really grown to care for the big beastie. What can I say, I'm a cat person!
In fact, I blogged about the new kitty we adopted this year too. After all, the house just isn't a home without a cat!
When we knew we were going to buy the house, I kept telling Jerame and Paige that my "housewarming" present to myself was going to be adopting another cat. I even narrowed it down to a few specifics.
I wanted a male cat. Orange or orange and white. Talkative. A lover. Playful. I was specific and determined. I wasn't in a hurry - the right cat would find me and fate would take it from there.
HOUSEHOLD POPULATION: 3 humans, 3 dogs, 1 cat
Denny Crane is not orange or orange and white. He's a long haired, gray, foul-tempered little bastard. After a bad reaction to a couple of flea bites this summer, he lost a big section of hair on his rear end and lower back. I call him "Monkey Butt" now, but when it was just skin and no hair, it was rather creepy and gross. And he hated Lucky (not that he had anything but disdain for the other two smaller dogs) and spent about a month hiding in the basement or perched on top of the fridge - hissing and growling like an air raid siren. Life with Denny has not been rainbows and peaches, but he's earned his stripes; we're used to him now.
Midway through November, I discovered a starving orange and white cat by our back gate. She would only lay on her side and mewl pitifully. Of course I fed her which means that she's never left. She's talkative. A lover. Playful. Surprisingly, Jerame (who doesn't really like cats) was the one to invite her into the house. He looked at her for about 2 minutes before telling me to bring her inside. She is exactly what I wanted in a cat.
HOUSEHOLD POPULATION: 3 humans, 3 dogs, 2 cats
I named her PB for Pretty Baby. Denny named her "Territory-Stealing Bitch" and called a blood feud. The dogs thought she was swell and she had no problems with them either.
But, seriously, how long does it take before you look at the two of them and think, "One of these cats is exactly what I was looking for. The other cat isn't and can't get along with anyone for very long." In case of nuclear war, I want to have a priority list already in my head so I don't have to make snap judgements. The house is getting a little crowded, if you know what I mean.
On Saturday I got up, let the dogs out and fed them, fixed my coffee and settled in for the morning when there was a horrible racket at the back door. It sounded like something heavy was being thrown at the top of the door and then scraping all the way to the bottom. About every 2 minutes. At 7:30 in the morning.
I peeked through the blinds on the door when suddenly this dog's face was on the other side of the window as it hurled itself at the door and then slid down the wood. Seriously, another dog come a'knockin'. Imagine the noise produced by 3 inside dogs barking and howling and another throwing itself against the other side of the door. I turned to Lucky and said, "Did you put up a goddamned sign?" as I slid out the door to shoo the other dog away.
She's skin and bones. I could wrap my hands around her waist. She's a pitt bull, so she's a medium-sized dog. She alternated between jumping at the door and rolling over at my feet to show me her belly. She's in heat. And she won't leave or even look discouraged.
I tried to lure her away to the alley and out of our yard. I took food to bait her, but she won't eat and always beats me back to the gate. By the time I can get through the fence, she's back to jumping at the door. The animal shelter is closed; the Humane Society is full. It's right before Christmas.
Jerame is always really cranky in the morning so by 8:30, I had what I thought was a brilliant idea. If I woke him up, he'd be really cranky and grumpy. The banging and barking would get on his nerves and he'd go out and chase the dog away. I spent about 20 minutes getting him up, but as he looked through the kitchen window, there was the dog at the back porch jumping up and down.
He went outside to "take care of it." Two minutes later he asked for a leash. I gave it to him and started to shut the door.
HOUSEHOLD POPULATION: 3 humans, 4 dogs, 2 cats
No more. Anything else and I'm going to start treating it like a baseball team and trading players. Damn Santa. If he sets foot in my yard again...
It could be worse, I suppose. At least the cats are getting along now. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend" and whatnot. If Santa makes it in the house, he'll have them to deal with.