So we got a cat tree (the "Deluxe") for the kittens. I suspect that out there circulating with all the 9/11 hoaxes and the Nigerian $45 Million transfer scams, there's an email that says, "You know you care too much about your cats if..." and buying furniture for them is the second-to-last step. The last step is always something like having them surgically grafted to your chest, or having 200 of them, or letting them run your life to the point where you're tapping the crystal serving cup like that chump in the Sheba cat food commercial.

But Gabey and Mosey are our offspring, and we got them furniture out of the hope that they won't destroy the people-furniture as much anymore. SingularGirl gave birth to Gabey, and I shat out Mosey. This is apparent in their respective personalities. If you don't understand how they could be brothers, yet one was immaculately conceived in a human mother and the other spontaneously formed in an act of sin against nature south of my taco compartment, then there is much you don't know about feline genetics. Needless to say, we have plenty of pictures of the cats, we have the "Staying Together For The Sake Of The Cats" refridgerator magnet, and now it's time to take it to the next level.

Fortunately, they've taken to it like dogs take to roadkill, knowing instantly that it was theirs. The high-up hidey-hole allows them to be simulaneously higher than everything else in the room and cowering in a hole, two of cats' favorite things. They're so passive-aggressive. You haven't fed them by 7:01, they sit on your face. You lock them in the bedroom, they shit in your shoe. And unless you've got treats for them, it's all, "Talk to the butt." At least they pay their way by eagerly munching the spiders that have me and Singular squealing in fear like a teenage Mormon bride. But they're sooo stupid- I beat Gabey at checkers 9 out of 10 times, easy.