For instance, the dogs insisted on cuddling right up against me in bed. To the point that they almost pushed me off of our king-size bed. I had to use an extra comforter to build a divider between us so I wouldn't be snuggled to death.
The next morning...I got up and stumbled into the living room, only to see that one of the cats had left me a present to make me feel better. NO. It was NOT a hairball. That I could handle. It was some dark gray rodent bigger than a mouse. In fact, it was more rat-sized, but it could have been a baby possum. I don't know, because I never got close enough to look for a head, tail, feet, birthmark, etc., to identify it.
Because...as I paused and thought, "Oh. Great. The murders begin again just as soon as Jim leaves town," Gabby, our Chocolate Lab/Kelpie (Kelpie, not Kelp. Although that would be grossly awesome. Google, people, do you use it?), immediately races over, picks it up, and takes it outside. Where I presume she rewarded herself by alternately treating it as a chew toy and something to whack into the ground to show it who's boss. I don't ask, I don't look. I'm just always glad she doesn't bring them back in. This is how we bury the bodies in our household, and I'm fine with it, because I've grown weary of scraping up halves of dead squirrels, rabbits, mice, shrews, lizards, birds...and it's ALWAYS the butt end that's left. Apparently our cats are Kosher.
This process was repeated the next day, only it was some sort of small bird with gray/brown feathers. I don't know exactly what it was because the feathers are all I ever saw of it. I was a little surprised that we had two homicides in a row. Weekly, and sometimes daily, murders were common when we lived in the country. Now, we're back in the city, so the murders have been few and far between.
The next day, no evidence of murder. Yay! I think the cats were just offended that Gabby kept stealing all of their offerings. I would like to think that Gabby was trying to help out since Jim was out of town. Go Girl Power! However, I'm pretty sure each time she just thought, "I'm not letting anyone else get their paws on that fabulous new chew toy!" After all, she's kind of a selfish bitch.
Either way, I'm making Gabby our official paw bearer, because Jim's going to be traveling a lot this month, so we're probably going to have a lot more corpses in need of disposal. Woohoo! Blegh!
P.S. I wonder if the two murders were part of some feral cat mafia initiation? After all, there's a cat across the street that is a long haired version of our solid gray cat, Max. We didn't know the cat's name for a long time, so we just called him Hippy Max. However, it turns out his name is Demon. He's not feral, but I'm pretty sure he's the Don. Maybe, he's modernized and allows house cats in, if they can prove their killers. I guess mine passed the test. Anybody know a good feline gang interventionist?
P.P.S. As I was updating this post about my feral cat mafia theories, a feral cat that hangs out around our office suddenly popped up in front of the glass door of our conference room where I am working. Obviously he's a low level wisecat that Demon sent to scare me, because I've outed him. He stared at me through the glass for a long time. Then I think he left a horse's head on the step. I'm not sure. I'm afraid to look.
Here's a picture of him, in case I suddenly disappear.