Baby vs Cats vs New Carpet: A Moral Conundrum

I love my baby - I do. I also love my two cats, though one is missing a leg so I guess that makes 1.75 cats - total.

I only speak of these things because recently I have been forced to consider and perhaps come to terms with this truly devastating reality: I may just love my new carpet more than anything.

Can this be possible?

We already had the cats, one of whom had been w us from the beginning, the other a more recent arrival as a "lady friend" for the seemingly lonely and grumpy three legger. They have always gotten along, which is why we expected the transition from a 4-roommate household, to a 5th one to be easy as pie.

When junior arrived and was brought home for the initial introductions, lady friend hightailed it under the bed - more out of shyness than anything. Cripple cat did not. And as wobbly and awkward as it, he stood his three-legged ground, eventually transforming from cute, cripply kitty to scary lashing out at newborn baby bad kitty.

And while I was too busy being yelled at round the clock by our newest addition, this did not go unnoticed by either of our families, particularly the grandmothers who as the protors of the clan were determined to wage an all out war involving shooing, cursing, all night lockouts and overall shaming of both kitties (good kitty and bad kitty), all in the name of protecting our new helpless little junior from the constant danger (although he didn't now it) always lurking inches away. And finally, my husband's mother came to me w a deal: Get rid of the cats or else.

As the sole litter box cleaner outer and the feeder (both activities I had conveniently read I shouldn't partake in before, during or anytime after pregnancy - ever - tho I can't remember where I read that), my husband was in complete agreement w the worried humans. I, on the other hand, fought an impressive battle engaging my personal weapons ignoring and denial.

And then the new carpet arrived.

Every night when we'd go to sleep, it was WAR and every morning we'd wake up to the shredded woolly remains of a cats gone wild party (minus the sex and big boobs). Piles of carpet scattered across its own helpless multi-colored self. One morning, I even woke up to a pile of ladycat's cat yack (I guess they really do party hard). Tho after racing to the kitchen in horror to arm myself up w everything swiffer, I returned to find the yack pile gone and in its place a guilty, yet satisfied lip licking mancat after a little snack of his lady friend's regurgitation. But, you know what? As glad as am I that they can help clean up - TMI! I don't want to know.

And now after months of my baby's little life being threatened day in and day out, and the phone calls, the emails, each one begging to please please please get rid of the violent meowing baby hunters, now that the perky red, green and yellow little life of my carpet is threatened, NOW it's on. And now I want those cats gone.

That thing cost me 250 bucks! It's a matter of life and death.