GOAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We now have four adults, 4 children ages 8,6,4, and 17 months, 2 goldfish, 2 hermit crabs, 3 dogs and 4 cats in my house. Oh, correction, make that 2 cats (one is mine, one is Stinky and Redhead's). It seems that Charles treated our 2 Tom cats as furry little footballs last night. Punted them right off the back porch, and he kicked one so hard that one even landed on the grill (or actually slid down the lid). Then he showed true man wisdom by telling me about it.

I won't even go into the "conversation" that ensued. Let's just say that he won't be doing that again because he wants his testicles to stay attached to his body. I'm still mad...seething actually.

I know some of you may find this funny when you visualize the cats flying through the air with stunned expressions on their faces and then hearing the "THUNK" of one of them as he made contact with the grill. Rest assured, I don't find that shit in the least bit funny.

My poor kitties. I love my cats - treasure them even. I even had a cat rattle when I was a baby. Me and cats are a package deal. If you don't like cats - then you can pack your shit and go 'cause I'm gonna have me a kitty...PERIOD. I let them sleep on my pillow and pet them in my sleep... SHUDDUP.

Both of the kitties that Charles scored a goal with just showed up at my house one night. The first tom cat (who we ingeniously named TOM - a beautiful tabby cat) came out briefly from underneath the house today and I was able to check him out. He didn't seem any worse for wear. I'm sure his ribs are a bit sore and I'll be taking him to the vet to be checked out as soon as I can coax him in the cat carrier. I was foiled in my attempt to do that today when Charles came out on the back porch and the cat saw him. Apparently, it was to much for Tom (flashback for him I guess...like a bad trip on acid...or so I hear), and he beat all four feet getting the hell out of dodge. Can you blame him? I shot Charles the stinky eye and shoved him, and I don't mean I shoved him in any playful sort of way either.

The other tom cat - black as pitch (we thought about naming him "Midnight", but that name has been done to death, "Turd" had also crossed my mind but I didn't want Lauren going to school telling her friends that she pets her Turd, so we named him Night, which very quickly changed to Night-Night)and looooves to eat. He came to the edge of the yard (about 20-30 yards away) and sat there looking at me and slunk away when I called him. I'm guessing he's the one that became intimately acquainted with my grill...what do you think?

In my house, there are a few things that are just sacred. ONE - my animals. TWO - Charles' Nascar races. THREE and FOUR - don't pertain to this conversation.

There will be a reckoning, you can bet your sweet ass on that. NO ONE TOUCHES MY ANIMALS. I have this funny feeling that all his Nascar races are going to be deleted from the DVR, ALL VHS tapes will be erased and his fucking #3 Dale Earnhardt throw cover is going to mysteriously disappear, along with his favorite Nascar mug, his sorry ass Nascar collectible bullshit that is collecting dust sitting on top of the mirror of my dresser,the fucking latch hook Nascar Checkered flag I've been doing for him, and just for fun, I will purge all traces of "Adult Entertainment" from this house just to piss him off. He will tune into his race next week to find that I have locked his sorry ass out of it and only I have the password. I'm also going to screw around with his Nascar bullshit that he keeps on line.

Oh yeah, I'm a pissed bitch. You just don't treat animals that way. He WILL learn.

Oh, and I'm sure you are wanting to know why he kicked the kitties....we finished cleaning out the den late last night and found that one or both of them (definately not the other one.."Jezebel" we call her "Jazz" - she's very skitish and won't go anywhere in the house except for my bedroom)had crawled into a couple of the boxes and used them for a litter box. We also found a couple of piles of kitty poo one on some folding chairs and one on his very expensive golf bag that he never uses. One of the boxes that was treated with such malice was family pictures...some of those are baby pictures of Lauren that had been blown up AND FRAMED and they can't be replaced. We had some of them professionally done. I'm hoping the frames afforded some protection, I'll be taking a look later in the week. I just can't bring myself to look right now.

To be honest, I'm pissed about it myself, but that doesn't excuse his behavior as far as I'm concerned.

Maybe I wouldn't be so pissed if he had taken the cats and showed them what they had done and put them outside or whatever, but he just went into the bedroom, snatched the cats off the bed where they were sleeping, and watched to see how far they could fly.