You realize, of course, that this means war

We bought a new plant this weekend, to go in the big glazed pot on the floor in the living room. It's a beautiful plant, green and yellow streaked leaves, lush and healthy (we'll see how long that lasts!).

Greg put it in it's new home on Tuesday night and covered the little bit of soil that was showing under the leaves with aluminum foil, since we've had unfortunate experiences with the kittens digging in my plants. On Wednesday morning, there were huge piles of dirt all around the new plant (on the carpeting) from where the cats had dug.

Needless to say, Greg and I were not pleased when we saw the mess. Greg proceeded to beat both cats quite excessively, to the point that he was hissed at more than once. They both are avoiding him now, which is unfair because someone needs to convince them to stay away from the plants. They seemed cowed.

This morning, after eating breakfast, I went upstairs to where Greg was still in bed and asked him if he'd heard it. He said, heard what. I said, heard the cats saying f**k you, as they destroyed not one of my plants during the night, but three.

Three separate yet similar heaps of soil, a tipped over plant, torn leaves--the whole nine yards of bad cat behavior. They. Are. So. Incredibly. Naughty.

I cleaned up the mess (Greg did it last night). If they do it again tonight, we may not have any kittens by tomorrow evening. I think we can dig some nice little plots out in the backyard.