The cats are out to get me!

Somebody help me quick! Do you speak cat? My wife has three of them and I'm convinced they are conspiring against me. I'm not sure what I've done to become a target. I help out with food and their litter boxes. I don't throw things at them or kick them when my wife is out of the room. And yet, I catch them staring at me with a look that falls somewhere between total contempt and you're an idiot.

My wife is another story. They love her. Whenever she's in the room they surround her like she's a big bowl of catnip. I haven't done that since the first year we were married, but lets save that rant for another blog. I can hear them laughing at me with their little demented cat laughs when she's doting on them... rubbing their bellies, scratching behind their ears. Eat your heart out say their expressions knowing I stand little chance of having anything rubbed as long as they are in the room. It's a conspiracy I tell ya! Those eyes! Those eyes!

I thought about hiring one of those pet psychics to see if I could at least get a heads up on what they're thinking. Maybe I can turn things around before I catch them poisoning my coffee. Perhaps they blame me for only being able to sleep 18 hours a day, or for not freshening their boxes often enough. Who knows? I just know they're up to something.

It's Stephen King's The Shining all over again. I'll be this crazy man running around, only I'll be the one who's being chased. They'll follow me around everywhere I go speaking in little cat voices.

PINTAC... PINTAC... they'll be whispering, which I think is catspeak for let's go pyschotic. Just when I'm ready to lose it and shout, Here's Mikee... my wife will come home and the cats will act as if nothing is going on. For a few short hours I can rest safe in the knowledge that the attention my wife gives them is more important than me. Unfortunately, she works again tomorrow.

Again I beseech you... Do you speak cat?