I haven’t blogged in forever! And for good reason–my life has been seriously booked between launching yet a third (and final) business, preparing for back to school with my boutique, and to put myself over the edge I rescued two kittens for my children…and I’ve never been a cat person. However, I fell in love with this long-haired, black striped kitty cat at first site. Or should I say at first hiss. She was wild, and living in an abandoned boat when my brother found her–along with the other four. My children and husband are cat fanatics, me not so much. They’ve been begging since I handed over our last cat (Meow Meow Paris Coco Puff Coombs) to my babysitter and her dog, Buster, five years ago. After Vance insisted that he taught the runt, now named Cubby, how to box and use a calculator in less than five minutes, I couldn’t resist throwing in the towel.
“Oh hell, let’s just take two of them.”
My brother shot me a look of “Huh?”
“Why not. If I’m getting one, I may as well get two. That way each kid has one, and they have each other when we aren’t around.” It sounded sane enough at the time. I let the kids pick one and I of course picked the fuzz bucket and named her Zsa Zsa–she just seemed like she was destined for fabulousness and maybe even fame. “And I”m taking them tonight before I change my mind. I’ll be back after I go to this birthday party and Petco.” And off I went.
The kittens, one of which was still being bottle fed, immediately litter trained and ate normal kitty food. They were pretty darn easy. Getting my three-year-old daughter to leave them alone was the hard part. She has wrapped them both up as babies, calls them her children, calls me their grandma (I threatened groundation the next time) and teaches them how to play piano and dance. They love her, but they hate her.
Just when I thought I had mastered the cat thing, Zsa Zsa threw a wrench in my plans. She was in my sons room and started making this weird sound. Then she jumped off the bed (thank God) and vomited on the hardwood floor (thank God it wasn’t carpet). We all started backing up, my first instinct was to call my husband to come clean it up, but he was in Tennessee. Damn. I bent down to pick the kitty up when (if you’re weak stop reading) all of a sudden a freaking round worn squirmed up out of the vomit and stood up at attention as if to flip me off and say “take that you new cat lover!” I was in shock! Mortified. CAT 911!!!
“AHHHHHHHHHHH @#$%%$@@!” “No Effen WAYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!”””
I didn’t know what to do. I just stared at it with my eyes closed. Trying to talk myself out of vomiting all over the place. I gathered myself after a few minutes with the realization that no one in the entire world was going to clean the mess up but me. So I evacutaed the room with kitty in hand, she went straight to the bath, then I cleaned the mess up and headed to Petco–where I ran into a vet that clarified they were round worms and not tape, and bought medicine to de-worm them. It was ridiculously hard to quarantine the cats from the kids, that was almost harder than cleaning up the spaghetti shaped parasites–no more Italian for me!
The day after the spaghetti incident I found mouse droppings on my stove and on my sons art table–where he had left a piece of peanut butter toast the night before–it was gone.
“AHHHHHHHHHHH” At this point my husband had been gone 8 solid days. My sanity was questionable. My first thought was Why in the hell aren’t these kittens doing their jobs? Isn’t that what they are for? Worms…..mice….I was ready to pack up my kids, maybe the cats, and move the hell outta dodge. I stood over the art table and thought, Wow, I’m really being tested here. And if I pass this test without giving away the kittens, without shooting a mouse with a sawed-off shotgun and without jumping off a bridge, I think I will have really grown as a person.
That’s when I heard my daughter scream…….she spotted the mouse running down the hallway by my room, straight to the area in my bathroom where the mice had gotten in. I went to Lowe’s and bought ten traps…three different kinds. I trapped two in a row right by that spot witht he old school ones–which worked for me because I wanted those suckers dead, not stuck to some sticky cardboard where I would find them squirming to escape…I picked the dead varments up with a broom, rubber gloves (which didn’t touch anything) a phillips screwdriver and a grocery bag. I’m sure there would have been an easier way but I was so excited that I had won the battle (but maybe not the war) that the idea of using my kitchen tongs hadn’t entered my mind until much later. (Just kidding mom).
That was last night at midnight. Today I disinfected, I made it through with no serious melt-downs and I still have my kittens who are actually sleeping in my room right now–yet another huge step–I must really love them.
After the week from hell, I feel like I’m stronger than I have ever been before–0r at least my stomach is, (this coming from the girl who ruined a funeral because of a gnat at age four.) I’m finding out that I have much more patience than I ever knew I had, and also know that I am not easily defeated.
There hasn’t been a lot of Eat. Pray. Love. going on in my life lately, which given the circumstances I can see why. But it’s time for some inward focus…I can’t wait to see what the universe deals me tomorrow, but I am ready. Until then…..