next_to_normal | A Sinking Ship

Happy New Year! I had a lovely holiday, but alas, I come with bad news for those of you (basically just

ever_neutral) who were dedicated shippers of my cat, Chelsea, and her nemesis-turned-boyfriend, Clinton.

Chelsea had an extended vacation at my parents' house this year, and that ship went down in FLAMES. Apparently, it was a relationship that worked better long distance.

I brought her home with me for Thanksgiving, and then I decided that, since I would be traveling for work in December, I would leave Chelsea with my parents and save her the three hours in the car going home and then three more hours to come back at Christmas. They seemed to be getting along fine at Thanksgiving - Chelsea started out hissing as usual, but they settled down even more quickly than they did last year at Christmas - so we figured it'd be no problem for them to live together for a whole month, and they might actually enjoy the company.

Well.

Apparently there was some sort of epic break-up. I can't really give you the details because neither my parents nor I speak cat, but it seems that one night, my parents and Clinton were sitting on the sofa watching TV when Chelsea marched into the room, looked right at Clinton, and gave him a good talking-to (meowing-to?). We don't know WHAT she said, but after that, feline relations quickly declined. Clinton was no longer held at bay by hissing - he'd discovered it was an empty threat - so he would stalk her, Chelsea would hiss, Clinton would chase her until she was cornered, then if my parents weren't able to break it up in time, the claws would come out.

Chelsea retaliated in the tried and true cat tradition of eating Clinton's food and peeing in his litter box.

My parents tried locking Chelsea in a bedroom to keep them apart when they couldn't be home to supervise (good thing my dad's retired now and mostly had nothing better to do) but Chelsea DID NOT LIKE THAT. This is what she did to the carpet when she was locked in:

Plus, Clinton would sit outside the door and Chelsea would get agitated and hiss and scratch at the door because she knew he was lurking out there.

My parents, of course, told me NONE OF THIS until the day before I came home. They "didn't want to worry me." Then I was like, "Yeah, I have some things to do around the house, so maybe I'll just leave on Sunday instead of Saturday?" and my mom's response was basically:

So I came home, and my parents are like, OH THANK GOD THESE CATS ARE SO BAD. The first thing I said when I saw my baby was, "Chelsea, what's that on your nose?" BATTLE SCARS, APPARENTLY.

She was much more relaxed and less timid once I was there to protect her, but we still spent quite a bit of time running after hissing, scratching cats. Needless to say, I think all involved were glad to see Chelsea and me go home.

So it looks like that's the end of Clintsea. OR IS IT?? (Stay tuned.)

But at least Chelsea got to look pretty for Christmas, right?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

ever_neutral

Oh my God.

What a rollercoaster. You took me on a journey.

Chelsea retaliated in the tried and true cat tradition of eating Clinton's food and peeing in his litter box.

I can’t.

This is what she did to the carpet when she was locked in:

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BATTLE SCARS

.mp3

So it looks like that's the end of Clintsea. OR IS IT?? (Stay tuned.)

Lmaooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

No.

Please. We’ve seen this story before. The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. If you’re worked up enough to be at war or revenge, that means there are FEELINGS involved still. THEY DON’T WRITE SONGS ABOUT THE ONES THAT COME EASY, BITCH. Believe it.