Conspiracy Theory

I think my pets are planning to take me down.  The four of them are home all day with plenty of time to think things out.

I'm not entirely sure why they might do this -- there are probably a few reasons.  For example, Cielo may be mad that I had her bark removed (and I don't blame her).  Daisy may be mad that she doesn't get enough lap time.  Emmy the cat may still hold a grudge against me because I have introduced three dogs into the house.  Adylson may not have a problem but I doubt she'd stand up to the others.  She's just that way.

I'm pretty sure they're like the A-Team of household pets.  They each have special forces type talents and training that the could use to off me given the appropriate circumstances.  Here's how they could do it (and may have already tried):

Emmy the Cat:  Emmy might as well be a monkey.  Her breaking and entering skills provide proof that you don't need thumbs to open any door.  One of her schemes is to open all of the armoir doors in my bedroom so that when I get up in the middle of the night to "do my business", I'll run into them.  To make it even better, she hides in the shelves so that she can pounce on me when I'm down.

Emmy is also a natural weaver (like this).  But she doesn't do it like she's doing it on purpose, and she doesn't do it after you've put your front foot down.  She places herself directly in the place you want to put your foot and then slows down like "oh, you wanted to walk here?" and then moves into position to the next step and repeats.  I end up staggering around the house like Frankenstein.

Daisy, the Geriatric One:  Daisy's talent lies in her obsessive compulsive disorder.  She licks the kitchen floor for hours until there's a giant spit slick.  This invisible slime is slipperier than Vaseline and twice as difficult to clean.  I've nearly landed on my @ss several times as a result of her efforts.

Cielo the Odd:  The puppy is a little more obvious.  She simply takes a running start across the bed and jumps with all fours onto my stomach.  I'm pretty sure my liver has ruptured.  The best part is that, while I'm laying there in pain, she stands on my chest and looks at me cross-eyed from about 3 inches away.  She could be trying to hypnotize me, too.

Adylson the Piddler:  The worst Adylson could do is a variation of Daisy's scheme and that is to wee a random stream of urine across my path to make me slip.  Again, it's happened more than once, but mostly it happens when we have visitors.

If I end up with a dislocated hip in the next month or so, I'm blaming it on the Pet-Team.