What I have failed to mention because I've been too busy writing about my sad life is I managed to obtain kitten number two a few weeks ago. We stopped by a gas station and this little black oil slick came walking up like it was no big deal. So of course I had to stop everything I was doing and catch the damn thing, walk it to the gas station, hold the kitten out in front of me and ask the cashier, "Does this belong to you?" Apparently it did not, hence me having acquired kitten number two that would be later known as Jax. Jax is an all black kitten, a week or two older than C.C. and when we first got him, a very mild mannered kitten. He was quite relaxed until C.C. decided he was a new play thing at which point he turned into a banshee. Whenever C.C. would try to play, Jax would serenade us with his best "Help me, I'm being murdered by a poltergeist" yowls. After about three weeks of getting bully beatdown by the orange fury, Jax finally learned how to stand up for himself and start fighting back, sans yowling. Thinking this was a good thing, the playful kittens got a lot of laughter and awwws. They still play will each other but only more...demonically, which has resulted in both of them needing special ointment because they love to kangaroo gouge each others eyes out with litter box feet, resulting in them each having a case of pink/gouge eye. Like idiots.
I could deal with the yowling, I could deal with the mortal kombat style fighting but they have now decided that everything in the house is fair game. The sweet little kitten purrs the once filled the night has now been replaced with mystery banging and crashing. They have basically turned the entire house into their personal American Gladiator arena/parkour course. They also enjoy murder attempts by running underneath your feet while you walk anywhere.
I don't just blame the kittens. Magnus the house bunny recently decided that me bring two kittens into the house makes me literally Hitler and he shows his disapproval by headbutting everything the fat ball of fluff can come in contact with, including said kittens. The kittens then retaliate by scaling the rabbit cage or laying just on the outside of it while they bop him on the nose. Then since I am truly the one at fault here, Magnus goes into my studio office and chews any and all documents that he can get to. Which considering he is a slightly....ok maybe more than slightly... overweight fluffy basketball, he does an incredible job getting to said documents.
So yeah, my house is basically just a bunch of half-feral animals running rampant while I cry in the corner. This is the life I chose.
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