this is my fifth day back in the house of the vicious girl cats.  i swear they are mind-readers.  they have hidy-holes all over the house and after they’ve eaten every bite of the wet food and 90% of the dry, they slip away to those dark places to nap.  that’s is my cue to try to get a morsel.  i tip-toe into the kitchen on ninja paws.  i don’t make a sound.  i don’t even stir the air.  but before i reach the bowl, they materialize and slap the living snot out of me.  if this were cat-to-cat i could hold my own, but they double-team, which amounts to 20 pounds of furry fury, and against that i haven’t got a chance.  i think i can feel my ribs.  i need a big, ugly dog to escort me to the bowl and stand guard while i eat.