This past weekend I unwittingly unleashed a war in my little house of the hill.
Sophie and Bob's beds were looking ratty. Having had them for over 4 years, this isn't really surprising.
Bob's bed had vomit stains on it (He pukes EVERYWHERE), Sophie's bed had a full out collection of cat litter growing in it.
Yes, I know. GROSS.
I promise, I vacuum these beds once a week and spot clean when necessary. But the second I do, Bob pukes on his again. Not to mention, Sophie is the feline version of Oscar the Grouch, her bed is her trash can. She always has an odd assortment of wrappers, dead bugs, my earrings and dirt buried in hers.
On top of that, as Bob gets older his surgery scars become more painful. I've noticed that it's harder and harder for him to curl up in his round bed, plus the longer he sleeps in it, the longer it takes him to stretch out and walk like a normal kitty again.
Enter Target and their fine assortment of cat beds....... or lack there of.....
They had two choices:
#1- A plush box looking comtramption that your cat could either sleep inside of or could be squashed down for your cat to sleep on top of.
#2- A flat, mat looking like thing that sorta reminded me of a giant maxi pad.
LOVELY.
I picked up the plush box for Sophie.
Oscar's new trash can? I certainly hoped so.
Next, I ventured to the dog beds.
There I found a beautiful sage and brown dog bed that claimed to be perfect for terriers and beagles.
And Bob.
Medium Sized Dog Bed = Extra Large Cat Bed.
Pleased as punch with my new purchases, I went home to show my kids the goods.
Bob- our typical 'fraidy cat, avoided all new beds like the plague and spent the next few hours sleeping on the sofa.
Sophie, on the other hand, LOVED her choice in beds. She sprawled out on it purring peacefully. Every few minutes she'd sit up and kneed it's soft, fuzzy cushion and lay back down in a satisfied kitty haze. I can't be certain, but I'm pretty sure she drooled all over it too.
There was only one problem:
She picked Bob's bed.
SHIT!
Try as I might, I couldn't talk Sophie into the purple, plush box. She would only give it the side eye from her new throne.
Bob didn't care much for the PPB either. Sure, he tried, but it just wasn't designed for fat kids.
After a mad dash to Targeg to return the unloved bed, I returned with another identical medium sized dog bed for my extra small, binker of a cat named Sophie.
This is where the bed war began.
Both cats wanted the original. Both cats think the new, same damn thing, is the worst bed ever.
I have fully inspected both beds and can assure you, neither has nails embedded in it, snakes living in it or funky smells emanating from it.
Both are sage and brown, both have fluffy, heavenly pillows, both are perfectly lovely.
Not in the eyes of the wacko twins.
So, they take turns sleeping in the "good" bed and sitting next to the "bad" bed.
They "tag out" by beating the snot out of each other at random intervals.
Typical these fights include yowling, snarling and spitting and hissing. My kitchen chairs are often moved in the chaos and someone always ends up hiding in the basement.
It's been 48 hours, I'm hoping the madness stops soon.
Mr. Berg and I are taking beds on how long this goes before Bob gives up and takes the inferior bed.
My money is on lunch time today.
Meanwhile, wrestle mania continues in the Berg Kitchen.
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