I woke up with a sore neck today. When I say sore, I don’t mean a little stiffness. I mean unable to turn my head to the right or move in any way without involuntarily excreting a sound similar to “MUNGRH!” In other words, owie.

I have a sore neck today because I woke up to find the dog sleeping on my head. I do not have a small purse dog. I have 60 pounds of animal on my head. Even though she went to sleep taking up more than half of the bed, sometime during the night, she decided that sleeping on my head was an excellent idea. You know, like you do.

I went to find my trusted heating pad only to find that the cord had been severely chewed by the cat. I know it was cat by the size of the teethmarks. Also, he tends not to chew things all the way through unlike the dog. A heating pad, by it’s nature, is something you want working in tip top order. Bite marks on the cord are not something I am willing to risk. If only I had a hot water bottle… I don’t.

The next best thing I could think of was a nice hot bath. Mmmm baths. I kicked the dog out of the house and prepared the bathroom for a lovely bubble bath. I’m lying in the tub with foamy bubbles and delicious steam rising, soothing my aching dog-stomped neck. Aaaaaaaah.

Clink, clink, clink. “Goddammit.” Rattle, rattle, rattle. “Fuck you!” My bathroom has a pocket door. It slides back and forth into a pocket in the wall rather than being a proper door that swings open and closed. A few months back, the cat was locked in my bathroom one day when we had electricians crawling through the house. During his time in the hole, he figured out how to open the door, most likely with his face.

Now, every time I’m in the bathroom, the bastard opens the door. He doesn’t close it behind him though so all of my delicious steam that’s soothing my aching neck goes wooshing out the door and I’m suddenly cold. So, here I am, naked in the bath with the blasted cat. Once he’s in the bathroom, he just sits there. He wants nothing but to be where I am at all times.

At that exact moment, the dog, somehow knowing that the cat has taken the lead in their eternal competition to be the bigger dickhead, decides to start barking her fool head off outside the window at some perceived threat, which is probably just my neighbors being the loud jerks that they are.

Bath ruined. Cat +1. Dog +1. They’re tied again. Now, I’m wet, cold, and the neck is still sore. These unmitigated bitches and bastards have, once again, caused me bodily injury and ruined a peaceful Sunday morning.

I often wonder why it is that I allow them to live in my house. Between the two of them, they have caused me more property damage than a category one hurricane. Male and I were trying to watch a movie in front of the fireplace last night only to remember that all the remote controls in the house have been eaten by dog. My laptop charger cable is coated with electrical tape where cat had initiated the destruction sequence. Fortunately, I caught him before the countdown finished. I’m currently wearing a pair of lopsided slippers, because dog pulled the stuffing out of only one of them. I am not allowed to use the bathroom by myself ever. I have nowhere to put my legs while sleeping, and now, nowhere to put my head. Cat poops in a box. Dog poops in the yard. Both of which I have to clean up on a regular basis. It’s not much fun. They both give me the gifts of poop, destruction and bodily injury. The gifts that keep on giving.

So, why do I put up with all of this? I guess it comes down to the fact that I cannot ever imaging coming home to an empty house. Plus, they are awfully cute (when they’re not being assholes). MUNGRH.