Disgusting

I can't even look at Fabio. I can't even think about what he did.

Granted, none of us is without stain in the delicacy department: the Rodent likes to sniff what oughtn't be sniffed; the Man scratches places that are best left alone; the Woman has a belch that could wake the dead; and I, yes, even I have been known to throw up an unpleasantness now and then.

But what happened in the basement this week was beyond the pale. What Fabio did was... oh Lord, I can't even discuss it. I'm gonna be sick. Again.

I now realize, and confess with no small dose of shame, that I've been deluding myself about my brother's mental state. He is not your average bumbling fool or garden-variety village idiot; he is a deeply disturbed cretin.

I mean, YUCK.

The party's over, boys

The Woman has returned, and with her a state of normalcy, such as it is around here. I have mixed feelings.
The quality of service will definitely improve with her return. Let's face it, the Man just doesn't have the right stuff when it comes to attending to my requirements. The bastard rarely gets off the couch, and his pellet-delivery technique is sloppy at best.

The Woman also exudes a quieting effect on the Big Rodent (the Man has pretty much let that beast run amok). What's more, there has been some truly disturbing behavior in her absence: First, I witnessed Fabio actually giving the Rodent a bath, and not long after, my own brother, my sainted mother's son, allowing HIMSELF to be bathed by the slobbery tongue of the poop-eating Rodent! Disgusting. I'm sure that kind of perversion will be brought to a quick end. The Woman brings with her a return to not only law and order and common decency, but hygiene as well... I also assume the Man will start showering again now that she's back. Heaven be praised.

Still, I must confess some regret that, now that the Woman is back in the bed, I won't be able to sit on her pillow in the middle of the night and stare at the Man with my most intense and unflinching glower. It really gets to him, and I've had such fun over the past week. He'd try rolling away from me, or burying his head in the covers, and I'd just stare right through his skull into his vulnerable little mind. What little sleep he was able to pull off must have been plagued by the darkest nightmares of clawful death. I am a merciless devil!

Oh well. Such simple pleasures come and go. A bowlful of pellets and little civility trump just about anything these days. I must be getting old.

And don't think I'm totally devoid of sentiment: I barfed up a welcome-home gift just for the Woman, but the Man cleaned it up before she returned. Her loss.