Pussy Equation

Let's talk variables for a minute: pussy edition.

It's now 2am. I'm tired. I just finished writing PG 2.0. I take off my trendy Lacoste glasses (they fit better than the Harry Potters) remove my ear buds, rub the incense haze from eyes and groan. I need to piss. I get up and on my way to the bathroom, I notice this:

Gross right? One of my pussies spewed this vile concoction on the carpet with no regard for human traipsing. So how did this happen? Well I come home from work at 11:30pm, unlock the front door, step into my abode and immediately both pussies are screaming furious meows at me. In their speak, they are saying, "FEED US MOTHERF-ER...NOW! FEED US! WE ARE STARVING AND WITHERING AWAY TO NOTHING, WE MUST BE FED IMMEDIATELY!" Yep, that's pretty much how it goes. So I dump some Iams in their bowl and a gross can of potted meat, aka, Fancy Feast on top of the Iams to squelch their cries.

Not thinking one of the pussies would hurl all over the shag, above is an AFTER picture of what's left of the Iams and Fancy Feast. As you can see, my pussies are slobs. Not only can they not keep their food in their bowl, they can't keep their litter in their box. Sloppy pussies. Sigh. I wish they'd tighten up.

How do the variables tie together you ask? The picture directly above coupled with CAT STARVATION (even though they are both overweight and spoiled) leads to the puke concoction my carpet. So THAT + THAT = THIS:

I grab my paper towels and a plastic sack and my trusty can of Resolve. Put the pussy puke in a bag and shoot that carpet with the foam. Then scrub, scrub, scrub. No TLC.

Too bag the big yellow dog wasn't up...then there would be no need for the Resolve. He's the cleaner, the scrubber and the polisher. And he is ultra gross. He snags "treats" from the litter box when we turn our heads. Real sneaky with cat litter all over your muzzle dog.

So it's December and we can't have a Christmas tree because the cats will eat it. We've tried. They ate it and shat fake needles. Limited on options we have a painting the kids did of a tree and I hang a strand of lights in a weak attempt to decorate. Now one of the pussies decides he'll chew on the lights. Like this:

Caught you red-mouthed you bastard! Nothing like hearing your cat crunching on little twinkling light bulbs. Ugh. Between the cats and kids and the big yellow cat-litter-digging dog, my head might just pop and then Red will get to Resolve my brains and eyeballs off the walls and carpet. That might be a two can job.

What do you think? Two can job? OR WORSE?