Tag Archives: cat

Dealing with Departures

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Our cancer patient, husky, died in July of 2010. We took her to the vet and said our good byes. We didn’t stick around for the deed. Neither one of us wanted to see that.

I thought making the decision would be the hardest part, but after leaving the dog at the vet Sophia kept asking me, “Were shan?”. I didn’t know how to answer her. From what I understand, in general, children at her age don’t understand the permanence of death, so I had no idea what to say. I didn’t want to tell her Chelan went to sleep and then have her freak out when I try to take a nap or something, so I did the major cop-out. I told her that Chelan was staying at the vet’s office because she’s sick.

A healthy Chelan in 2005

Her usual pose

Camping at our property after diagnosis

Four months later, November 2010, I took our cat Bailey to the vet for a routine exam and shots. Not thinking about what I had said about Chelan I told her that Bailey had to see the doctor. “No! Sah-phia’s cat!” She protested.

I wonder if she still remembers that. When I took Bailey to the vet recently to get his teeth fixed I thought of that every time she asked me, “Where’s Bailey?”

nablopomo

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Odd Friends of the Animal Kingdom

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I’m sitting on my bed enjoying my night away from the kids when Sophia comes up, “Can I go potty in dere?” Of the three bathrooms, she insists on using the one off the master bedroom.

“Yes you can use the bathroom in here.”

After she finished in the bathroom she spotted the cat next to me, “Can I get Bay-wee?”

“No, Bailey is resting.”

“Can I get on da bed?”

Knowing better, I said yes. Bailey took off into the master bathroom because the door leading out of the bedroom was closed. Sophia took off into the bathroom after the cat and I hear, “Dat is for you to pee in. Do you need to potty?” We don’t have a litter box in there. She was actually explaining the toilet…you know, the kind with water in it, to the cat. Please don’t pick up the cat. Oh please don’t pick up the cat.

Sophia came out of the bathroom and opened the door leading out of the bedroom, “Come on Bay-wee. Wet’s go downstaiwers.” The cat, without running, actually came out of the bathroom and followed Sophia as they both descended the stairs. Then Sophia says, “Dat’s good. Thank you for wistening.” *blink* *blink* *blink*

Those two have the oddest relationship of any unrelated creatures ever. Let me explain how their daily interaction usually plays out…

Sophia will get bored arraigning her toys in the center of the toy room or watching TV and go upstairs to find the cat. The cat is always easily found under the covers of the master bed. Sophia doesn’t have to look under the covers though. She knows that the lump is the cat and he knows that when he hears her stopping and saying, “Wah-er” as she roars like a lion, that it’s his cue to run.

She runs into the master bedroom roaring. I hear him jump down from the bed and run across the room, then I hear her run across the room. I then see the cat run past me and hear Sophia roaring down the stairs. They then run several laps downstairs and dart back upstairs. Occasionally the cat will lose Sophia the lion and I’ll hear, “Momma, were’s Bay-wee?” Other times they’ll both get bored and or tired and it just ends. And then there are times when Sophia somehow corners him and I hear, “Momma Bay-wee hit me. Bay-wee das not nice. Das not nice hit Sophias.”

With exception to the last scenario, Bailey seems to enjoy his almost daily exercise. He doesn’t generally run from her. It’s more like a brisk walk. I’ve actually seen him stop as if he’s waiting for her to catch up.

Tonight after Sophia got ready for bed she came to give me a hug and kiss goodnight, but not before she gave one to Bailey. He wasn’t sure if he should jump off the chair or see what the crazy lion girl was up to, but he stuck it out.

bonking heads with mom

Picture taken 12/14/2010 at a local Greek-ish restuarant

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The Ironic Shush

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I can’t remember what the chaos was all about. I think Sophia had just woken from her nap. She is often very grumpy after a nap even if she wakes on her own. She had a melt down, a tantrum, so bad that Kurt and I just looked at each other knowingly. This was going to be a long few hours before bedtime. She screamed and cried stomping her feet with tears streaming down her face. Inconsolable for quite a while, Sophia finally calmed down sitting in my lap. We were on the couch, and she sucked her thumb with friend, moose, and bear. All was quiet for a moment and then the cat let out a loud whiny, “MEOW”. Sophia pulled her thumb out of her mouth and put her finger to her lips, “SSssshhh”.

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La-Z-Boy Laura vs. Ikea

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For two years after Kurt and I moved in together we had two couches. One was his red leather couch, which our cat was slowly destroying with his back claws as he dug in for powerful lift-offs across the room, and then there was my couch. My couch was some black velvet-like 80’s couch with rainbow colored glittery pinstripes. Don’t laugh it was free! I promptly covered it. The cover for my free couch cost $50. You may laugh now.

Almost six years ago we bought our current house and soon after that sold Kurt’s couch because our living room was too small for two. We needed more seating so we purchased two Ikea chairs. About three years ago, we decided it was time to toss the free couch and buy a real couch both of us liked and that wouldn’t get destroyed by our cat’s jackrabbit impressions.

We probably went to every furniture store in the county and a few outside the county. We went everywhere! Finally, we went to La-Z-Boy. I always thought they only sold recliners and had cheap furniture. Not that I wanted something super ‘high end’, but I didn’t want anything that would fall apart after a couple years either. Turns out, I just don’t know jack about brand names and such. I absolutely fell in love with a curved couch and the huge ottoman in front of it. We looked at everything in the store, but I kept coming back to that one.

La-Z-Boy doesn’t refer to their furniture by model numbers. They use proper names, so anytime the sales lady heard me refer to *that couch* she would say, “The Laura”. “Umm yeah, that one. The curved one, with the ottoman.”
“The Tasha”

After Kurt sat on everything in the store at least twice, including the recliners that tilt forward to help old people back onto their feet, he finally agreed that was the couch for us. We picked out colors and fabrics for the couch and the pillows and then went through the process of completing the sale. One of the other sales people stuck up a conversation with us while we waited for paperwork.

Our sales woman to sales man: They’re buying The Laura
Sales man: Oh, are you buying a chair too?
Kurt: No, not yet, but once we see it with the Ikea chairs we’ll probably come back

The man looked like Kurt had just killed his favorite pet right in front of him and ate the heart.

Sales man: You’re going to put Ikea chairs next to The Laura?
Kurt: No, we’re putting The Laura next to Ikea chairs. We had them first.

If it hadn’t been for that exchange we would have never bothered to remember the names of our furniture. We did go back weeks later for a chair and bought the Farris.

November, 30 posts in 30 days nablopomo.com

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Screaming Hilarity

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I don’t know why the cat never liked Sophia. She has always been very gentle, surprisingly so, for a toddler. She never pulled his tail and always petted softly. Well, she has finally lulled him into a false sense of security and she now takes full advantage of it. Sophia will now spot the quietly lounging cat in a room and run in yelling for the sole purpose of scaring him. She loves it. She is pure toddler evil in the cat’s eyes.

Last weekend we went to the racetrack to watch motorcycle racing. I specify motorcycle as if there is any other type of racing acknowledged by Kurt, though I must agree it’s much more entertaining when a right turn is an actual possibility and not just a fatal flaw. In case you weren’t sure or missed it completely, yes, that was a dig on NASCAR.

At the track they built a playground in the parking lot. There was only one other parent with her three older-than-Sophia kids. As her kids played tag she kept reminding them that there is a smaller child, a ‘little one’ playing there too. As soon as I let Sophia go she ran to the back side of the play equipment. The area is fully fenced so I didn’t have to worry about Sophia running off. The other kids ran past Sophia and she let out a loud scream. The other parent thinking one of her children hurt mine jumped out of her skin and flipped around to see what was going on. Kurt also looked for her as well as a friend that was with us. When Sophia noticed she had scared the adults and all attention was on her she laughed, completely uninhibited laughter.

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Projectile Vomiting Ninja Cat

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I’m a horrible mom.  I sat on the spare bed while Sophia tapped on the keys of my laptop then she wanted up on the bed with me.  I pulled her up in front of me, while simultaneously leaning back and rolling to the side so that she would be beside me on her back.  But as I rolled my hand rubbed on a blanket on the bed.  It felt wet and I let Sophia drop onto the bed.  She landed right in a pile of cat puke.  I swear I had no idea it was there.  That stealthy little ninja bastard in a fur coat puked without me hearing it.

He’s so way off schedule.  He never pukes during daylight hours.  What the fuck is up with that?  Who gave him permission to change his hours?!

I’ve become accustomed to waking up at two, three, or four in the morning to the rhythmic sounds of, “Aaack hhck aack”.  Usually those sounds occur in the small hallway space between the bedrooms.  That patch of carpet has been cleaned more than any other part of the house.  All the bedrooms lead to that space and that’s as far as the cat seems to be willing to travel in order to puke privately.  Although there have been a couple very notable times aside from this one in which he changed up the routine a bit.

There was the time that in trying to get off our bed to puke he only made it as far as the footboard.  I could hear the sound of water splatter everywhere.  Because it was night, I only thought of the floor and cleaned up what I could find in dim light.  It wasn’t nearly as much as what it sounded like.  In the morning I saw some splatter on Kurt’s dresser.  I wiped it down, then for some reason thought to check inside the fully closed drawers.  I had to wash everything in the bottom two drawers.  It was EVERYWHERE!

The other memorable cat puke moment was the time Bailey was sleeping on Kurt’s stomach and began to hack up a fur ball.  The sound and motion woke Kurt, but only enough for him to sit up, nudge me, and yell, “Get him, Go Go Go!”

This post has been brought to you by Hills x/d and c/d feline prescription diet with chicken and the color tan.

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Stand Back, I have Cheese!

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Like many people who have to give pills to their dog I wrap Chelan’s in a bit of neon orange glow-in-the-dark American cheese polymer. I would never purchase the pre-sliced individually wrapped stuff except to serve my four-legged cancer patient her pills. It works like chocolate coating for humans only chocolate doesn’t cause cancer. This ‘cheese’ on the other hand…I think it would be worth investigating.

To accompany Chelan’s evening meal I grabbed a single pre-wrapped slice for pill prep. The unwrapping of the cellophane scared the crap out of the cat. He took off up the stairs not touching a single step. My cat can sense pure evil and he knows it’s embedded in this ‘cheese’. The next time the cat decides to serenade me at four in the morning I’m going to wave cheese in his general direction. Stand back! I have cheese and I know how to use it!

My cat is so stupid.

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55 Flash Fiction Friday: Seasonal Reminder

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May is here and Mother’s day is near. I saw it on the dining table this morning and raced to see what it said. It’s been a long time since either of us left the other an endearing note. I guess I’ll have to settle for less, “Time for flea medicine” is what I get.

time for flea medicine!

55 Flash Fiction Friday
Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55′s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.

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55 Flash Fiction Friday: Furry Gargoyle

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He’ll leave the room and then meow as if he’s lost. He whines incessantly. There are days I want to drop kick him down the stairs.

You make my ass twitch

But on quiet nights when I want company, he’s there, always. As if he’s my regal protector. The bastard is just trying to make me feel guilty isn’t he?

55 Flash Fiction Friday
Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55′s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.

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George Carlin turned us into necrophiliacs

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Last night Kurt and I were watching one of George Carlin’s old comedy acts. I’ve seen them all before. I’m a huge fan of Uncle George and was in a odd daze for a couple days after his death. Kurt thought that he had found an act that we hadn’t seen yet, but it turned out he simply didn’t rate it on Netflix. It didn’t matter. I love Carlin. I may not laugh at every bit like I used to, but I appreciate and enjoy it just the same. The comedy bit we heard last night had the seven dirty words skit plus three add on words and an informative history of the word fuck. It turns out, according to Uncle George, that the word fuck in old English originally mean to hit something as with a stick. It has somehow morphed into a sexual word. Some people combine sex and violence as Uncle George acknowledges, but it seems odd to marry the two with one word, unless describing a specific act. Towards the end of his fuck tirade he says,

“The person who thought up the slogan, ‘Make Love, Not War,’ . . . his job was over that day. He could’ve retired at that moment. If it would’ve been me, I would’ve walked away. So long, I’m goin’ to the beach. You guys work it out.”

“Now I have a slogan, too. It’s not as euphonious. It doesn’t roll off the tongue. It’s ‘Make Fuck, Not Kill.’ Substitute the word ‘fuck’ for the word ‘kill’ in all of our writings. I’d love to see it. Just for awhile. Just for a year or so. And we would change.”

He gives some examples of the switched words like, “my horse broke his leg, guess I have to fuck him now”.

Another comedian I like to watch is Jeff Dunham. He’s a ventriloquist with several puppets. My favorite is Achmed the Dead Terrorist. Achmed is easily upset by audiences that laugh at jokes told about him and will say, “Silence! I kill you!” Except that it sounds like, “I keel you!” which is what we currently yell at our cat when he sits just outside our wide-open bedroom door and meows incessantly. Thanks to the two comedians, we’ve decided it might be more effective if we yell, “Silence! I fuck you!” as our threat to the cat.

We also decided that instead of yelling, “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you” when we’re upset at each other or the cat we shall kill and then fuck. It seems only humane.

November, 30 posts in 30 days nablopomo.com

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