from a place of wrath and tears
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See, now I'm nervous and fight the urge to find me a big dry rock to crawl under.
Okay, moment passed. I can breathe again.
I think we've got a poltergeist here. Cats roam around, find a corner in an empty room (like the cellar, or the bathroom, far far from where I am) and start mewling. No, mewling doesn't sound like the sound they're making. "Maowing" should do it. So they maow maow at the wall. And just when I think I should go look at what's the matter, they scurry in a flurry through the house, find some high ground where they do a fast paced "The Exorcist" dance, and then they scurryflurry to somewhere else, usually outside. Psychocat, in all the confusion usually ends up on the table, before she realizes that that's the one place cats are not supposed to be in our house. At least when the twoleggers are home/standinrightbesidecha. So see, poltergeist.
Hold on, that can't be right. *snaps fingers* I know what this is! It's: nothing says spring like:
FLEAS!
Oh my lovelies, are we going to have a fun day of Advantage rubbing! And making fun of your punk hairdos. And laugh at your all-wrinkly "ooh this smells baaaaaaaad" faces.
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