I think I should write a book series. Maybe it will be a children's book. On the misadventures of sister kitties. Perhaps it will be a sweet compelling tale of humor and triumph ala "Marley and Me." More than likely. If I were to write a book. It would be of a self-help type. Explaining why you don't really want a cat. And especially why you don't want a pair of kitties.
I could start with the fact that you could end up with clever cats who turn on the faucets because fresh water is much better than the swill in the bowl.
Or clever might not be the word for kitties who get trapped behind bookcases.
I could also mention the possibility of ending up with chewers. Who could destroy your blinds.
Be attracted to the smell of crocs...which demand to be eaten.
Or really the scent of any foam. Which leads to things like intestinal blockages.
One would not want to end up with clever cats who like to chew. Because they might open your bathroom drawers. And feel the need to eat all the hairtyes in said drawer. Yielding yet another high vet bill.
I could also wax rhapsodic about those chewing kitties. Who insist on chewing. Climbing. And sleeping in your Christmas tree. Forcing you to put it away. And changing the face of your celebration forevah and evah.
And then. I could mention this day. Which started with an email. And a query. "Is there something wrong with your phone? I tried to call you this morning. It rang once and then nothing." After much investigation. Calling my own house. Having other people call. Calling the phone company. But being perplexed because the internet works just fine. We discovered the problem.
Every. Single. Phone cord. Has been chewed on. Every. Single. One. When your phone cords have been used for lunch. The phones no longer work. I am quotable. Just like Confucius. I am quite sure I have the makings of a best seller. If only the kitties would stop prying the keys off of the keyboard.
So. If you are trying to reach me. Don't call.