I think my cat is in heat. Lately there has been a male cat stalker outside our front door, howling his amorous advances into the wee hours of the morning until we chase him off with a squirt bottle.

And for the last two days J and I have looked over to see the dog attempting to…well, you know. To the cat.

The biggest problem with this scenario is that our cat has been neutered. And yes, I did mean to say “NEUTERED.”

We have a male cat. Who is apparently emitting some sort of female pheromones that every other male animal in the vicinity is picking up on.

“Maybe he’s gay.”
“A gay cat?”
“Sure. It would explain so many things about him. It happens in the animal kingdom sometimes.”
“Only with monkeys.”
“Well apparently he’s not the only one. That other cat comes by every night.”
“Great. We have an abundance of gay pu$sy in the neighborhood.”

(blink, blink) “…That is so going to be the title of my next blog entry.”

“I don’t even want to know about the pervert hits you’re going to get from Google with that.”

I can’t sleep. I know, it’s not exactly 2am or anything, but I usually revel in the ability to go to bed early. I have always had a talent for being able to sleep anytime, anywhere.

But for the past two nights, I have been unable to turn off my restless mind. I sound like a Lunesta commercial. Last night it was well into the night/early morning before I got any sleep.

Probably just leftover frustration/stress from the past days experiences, but it still irritates me. I may be able to explain it but I can’t control it. I guess that’s my problem.

And lack of sleep doesn’t exactly help the stress/frustration problem either.

My cat is trying to comfort me by digging his claws into my leg.

How sweet.

You know how you have a kid, and then suddenly nobody in the world has any interest in YOU anymore - it’s all about the kid. It’s not “When are we going to see you guys,” it’s “When is Button coming to visit?” - to which the reply is “When she’s old enough to drive herself. Why don’t you ask HER?”

Well, it appears that the knife twists even deeper. Yes, folks, we are now second-class citizens to the DOG.

“I’d like to check on boarding availability for our dog for next weekend.”
“OK, what’s the last name please?”
“[last name]”
“OOH, we get to see HASTINGS????”
“Yeah, um, that was pretty good. You know him by name?”
“EVERYBODY knows HASTINGS!”

OK, then. Our dog is a super-stud and our baby is the world’s cutest munchkin.

I guess we’ll just have to get used to our roll as the “accessories” of the family. The “accessories” who feed and clothe these attention-sucking little mongrels.

But I’m not jealous.

Last night my brother brought his adolescent dog over, who now outweighs my dog by like 30 pounds. Hastings is having to learn that the rules start to change when you’re not the biggest dog around anymore, and based on a conversation with J last night, I’m not sure he’s handling it too well.

“When Zack was over here tonight, he was sniffing around in the corner of the yard like he was just about to mark it or something and Hastings stopped in his tracks and stared at him like You are SO NOT about to do what it looks like you’re trying to do. Then he looked at me like ‘Are you seeing this? Are you actually going to let him PEE in MY YARD??? You BASTARD.’ He gave me the worst look, like, I was already in the Dog House and Zack hadn’t even done anything yet. I was in the Dog House…from the DOG.”

Watching the dog try to pick a fight with a stuffed duck that quacks to “Old McDonald Had a Farm.”