A plague on the cats.

Cat One has decided my newly planted vegetable bed makes a great dirt tray, stares defiantly at me while poo-ing on the rocket, and completely ignores my shouts to "get OFF there you little Bugger".

One or both of them have also turned homicidal. While this was confined to the garden room I resigned myself to cats being cats and just cleared up whatever fur, feathers and body parts appeared on the floor. However, I was woken yesterday by shrill squawking. This went on for a good few minutes until I could no longer persuade myself it was coming from outside my bedroom window. Opened my eyes to see feathers and fur flying through the air, yelled "BUGGER OFF", and a dark stripy thing with a mouthful of bird shot out of the door. He/she thoughtfully left behind some bloody innards, a leg, and a foot just by my bed. Great.

Last weekend Cat Two puked on the beautiful deep fluffy cream rug in the sitting room. Cat Two has a well deserved reputation as a powerhouse puke machine. She is quite a sight in action. Her neck goes back and forth a few times, the puke shoots forward and she simultaneously shoots backwards with a look of complete astonishment on her furry face. Why she is surprised I don't know, as this is hardly a rare event. I've given up taking her to the vets as he can never find anything wrong and I just end up with a large bill for pointless potions and "special" foods (ie probably same price per ounce as platinum). I never go into the kitchen barefoot in the morning now after having stepped once too often in one of her squelchy offerings while still half asleep, and having had to hop frantically over to the sink while trying not to vomit myself.

Anyway, I was feeling a little fragile the morning after the hen doo, and Cat One was looking a little too interested in the latest offering. So to stop him treating it as breakfast seconds ("great - thanks sis!"), and being a bit of a slut, I decided I couldn't cope with it right away and folded the puky corner of the rug over to be dealt with later.

Unfortunately I only remembered this quite late in the day when Hippy Chick and Chicklet dropped by. Chicklet raced into the sitting room as she is wont to do (no CBeebies at Chick Towers) and within a few seconds "MUMMY what is the HORRIBLE STINK in here?" was belted out.

Bugger. Caught out in all my sluttiness. But it got worse.

Hippy Chick very gamely offered to help me sort out the offending puke rug, and just as we started rolling it up, found underneath....A DEAD MOUSE. Another offering from the homicidal one I guess, though I'm concerned about this new penchant for hiding the bodies.

However, the flat has never been so clean since. I've prodded and poked under every piece of furniture and ransacked all their usual hiding places. Didn't find any more remains, but did get rid of an awful lot of dust and balls of cat hair in the process.

Finally, just to top off the week, New Fling dropped by today for some lunchtime naughtiness. (Lets call him Mellors, for reasons which will become obvious.) He took a good look at the new lawn he laid for me only a couple of weeks ago, and told me that the friendly fox I thought was so cute has been poo'ing and wee'ing on the lawn and this is killing off a large part of the turf. I have to confess, part of me is pissed off but another part is thinking....shame, he'll have to put those gorgeous muscles to work when he's sorting out the damage, and no doubt he'll get all hot and sweaty......

Yum. A sliver lining and all that.