I really thought yesterday that the 4 legged members of my family were trying to kill me- or at least cause me to lose my ever loving mind.

We have 2 cats- The Mooch & Boo- and a dog, Crazy.   The kitties are almost 10 year old and the pup is 9.  We’ve had the cats since they were itty bitty and 2 more spoiled beasts you’ll never meet.   They are the friendliest, sweetest buggers around- just about perfect in every way.  Except for the shedding and the puking.

Then there is Crazy.  Now, don’t get me wrong, we love Crazy but she has earned her nickname.  We got her a little later in her life- she was almost 9 months old and a very, very rambunctious, energetic, ill mannered lab.  About 3 years after we got her, Crazy developed an intense fear of thunder storms seemingly over night.  That fear grew until 3 summers ago our vet finally suggested we put her down because her fear was so intense that she literally lost her mind during storms and would do anything- hurt herself, try to chew thru doors, hurl herself out doors- to get away from the storms.  As a last ditch effort, we took Crazy to a nationally known vet school and had her put on 2 different anxiety meds (this was after years of behavior modification & desensitizing her) that have made her fears a bit more manageable.

So, yesterday.

It’s 8 in the morning and I’m cuddling with the kiddos on the couch watching TV.  Across the room I hear the unmistakable sound of Boo (because it’s always Boo) starting to get sick.  I turn around to make sure she’s at least on the wood floors (easier for clean up, you know) and I see her standing right over my shoes. My favorite shoes. The shoes I’d wear all day every day if this freaking fraking winter would ever go away.   I jump up from the couch and try to make a mad dash over to shove the cat so she pukes somewhere- anywhere- else.  But I’m too slow.  Into my shoes, she’s pukes.

Wonderful.

Later that day, I get home after grocery shopping.  I set one of the 8 bags I’m carry down on the landing so the Hubs can carry them to the kitchen when I notices liquid (a lot of it) on some of our shoes and filling up our boot tray in our entrance way.  It’s a crystal clear sunny day out, so I know darn well that liquid didn’t come from our shoes.  I yell for the Hubs- telling him that the dog had for some very odd reason, peed.  Right into his brand new sneakers, which then overflowed into the boot tray.  The Hubs and I were stumped as to why Crazy (who for all her faults, doesn’t pee inside) would have done that.  The best he could figure out was that there were a bunch of motorcycles roaring up and down our road and that must have scared the piss, literally, out of Crazy.

Again, wonderful. Especially when you consider that our neighbor up the road basically runs his own Harley club and on any given nice day from April until October, anywhere from 10 – 20 cycles zoom up our road.

About an hour after the peeing incident (which the Hubs, bless him, dealt with), I heard the Bean waking from her nap.  I went into her room and we played for about 10 minutes before she wanted to go downstairs to play with Scorch.  Somewhere in that 10 minutes Boo puked on our top stair- something I didn’t hear because I was too busy playing with my daughter.

Guess who stepped into that nice, warm pile of vomit in her bare feet?  Guess who came this close to teaching her 2 year old a very, very bad swear word?  Guess who kept gagging for the next hour remember what exactly that felt like between her toes?

Guess who which animals are lucky to still have a home after all that?