Dead Cats
My cats are lucky to be alive, because this week I was ready to kill them both. I suppose I shouldn't blame both cats for their misdeeds since I'm pretty sure it's my boy cat who is the main culprit. But since I don't actually catch them doing their dastardly deeds, they both must be punished.
My cats are old. John and I got them the same year we got married so these little f&*#$ers are 14 years old. Sorry for sort of cursing - but you don't know how mad I am at them right now. They've done a lot of damage over the years. Among their worst transgressions have been peeing on a couch, peeing on our bed (while we were away on vacation) and scratching every nice piece of furniture we have ever brought into our house. At our lowest point about six years ago we stooped so low as to post them on craigslist in the hopes that some wonderful cat lover would take these urinating, scratching, puking wretches off our hands.
As luck would have it, no one wanted them so here we are, eight years later. Now, don't get me wrong. For the most part I love the little furballs. My girl cat cuddles with me every night and even though the boy cat annoys me endlessly with his heavy footed visitations at 3 a.m., he's awfully cute when he presses up against me on the couch while I watch tv. However, this week pushed me over the edge.
So I came downstairs yesterday morning to find a huge, wet, smelly puke stain on the couch. Of course I found it as I was rushing to get out of the house so I then had to spend the next 5-10 minutes trying to figure out how to clean the mess so that it wouldn't stain. We are still working on it - cat puke is the worst smelling stuff in the world.
To distract myself from the awful smell I went to Home Goods yesterday and bought a bunch of stuff for our house. One of the things I bought was a beautiful rug made in India for our living room - a room that is badly in need of redecorating. I LOVE this rug. It's beautiful, did I already say that? Anyway, the cats never go into the living room because that's where the dog hangs out. They tend to stay upstairs where they can pee on the bed or downstairs where they can puke on the couch. I was sure my rug was safe.
You can imagine how incredibly upset I was this morning when I came downstairs and noticed THREE distinct areas on my brand-new rug that had been used as a scratching pad. I stomped down the stairs, grabbed the damn cat and threw him into the laundry room. Then I went upstairs and wrenched his sleeping sister off my bed and threw her in there with him. I'm sure he was to blame, but if one of them is put in solitary, the other goes too.
They are still in there. Don't worry, they are quite comfortable lounging on our dirty laundry and exploring all the dark, nasty corners of their temporary home. They will not be leaving that room until I can put covers on their sharp little claws and provide alternate scratching areas for them around the house. And YES, I will take the boy cat to the vet, I promise.
Go Dog Go - Redux!
Some of you may remember last year when I wrote about my adventures of running with Penny, my beloved lab/shepherd mix dog. Penny and I ran together a few times - or as I like to call it, we went for several "trots" together. We had a great time but once the weather got hotter I abandoned outdoor running with her since I didn't want her to get overheated. For some reason we never got back into it.
This week I decided it was time for Penny and me to give our trots another try. On Tuesday we ventured out together on an unseasonably warm day and things went fairly well. She did dump a big smelly load about five minutes in, but unlike the time that I got poop on my hand things went fairly smoothly. I did notice that she had some trouble getting up the big hills and I found myself saying things like "Come on, Penny, you can do it!" or "Just five more minutes, Penny!". I felt like her personal trainer.
Then I realized something interesting. Penny just turned six year old, which makes her 42 years old in dog years. I myself am about to turn (ahem) 42. Wow, Penny and I are the same age! There we were, two forty-something ladies huffing and puffing up the big hills together. I gained a whole new respect for her. I decided I owed it to her to improve her health as well as mine. I resolved that our trots would not fizzle out just because I end up having to carry a plastic bag full of her feces during our runs.
The Thrill of Victory and the Agony of Defeat
My boy experienced both of these emotions this past weekend. Jack's hockey team played in a hockey tournament to round out a very successful season. We had high hopes as we anticipated lots of excitement watching his team work their magic. Unfortunately John was out of town on a business trip, so it was up to me to get Jack to his games and cheer him on by myself, not to mention having to text John with frequent updates so that he would know what was going on.
The first day of the tournament was amazing. Not only did they win both games but the second game was a thrilling contest of ups and downs. One minute they were winning, one minute they were losing. At one point it was tied. I was frantically texting John and cursing the poor cell reception at the rink. They ended up winning by one point and I will never forget the looks of pure joy on those kids' faces as they all skated down to their net and crowded the goalie, tapping his helmet and hugging each other. Jack said when they went into the locker room he and some of the other players were practically crying. Ah, the thrill of victory . . .
Out of the Mouths of Babes
I have yet another installment in the never-ending stream of comments that come out of my kids' mouths. The other morning I was lying in bed and I heard the kids laughing about something . . .
Ella: (spelling) H-A-H-A-H-A-H-A exclamation point!
Jack: You could just say LOL.
I almost fell out of bed. LOL? This is a kid who just started learning how to use email - what the heck does he know about LOL? He doesn't text or instant message or any of that stuff. This just goes to show you how these abbreviations have made their way into the language of our kids. This must be their form of slang.
The other gem occurred during our lunch after the heartbreaking loss in Jack's semi-final game. He quickly got over his disappointment when I decided to allow him and Ella to climb the rock wall at the ice rink. We then decided to accompany one of his teammates, his mom and little sister to Five Guys to indulge in a greasy lunch of burgers and fries. The other little girl was Ella's little buddy - they'd bonded all season by running around various ice rinks while their brothers played hockey.
During lunch the mom was telling me about all the places they've lived since they are a military family and move around a lot. They spent several years in Korea and she described how her kids were even invited to participate in a Korean wedding, at which point Ella piped up with this endearingly innocent remark.
"I have three friends in my class who are Korean," she said. Then she looked over at her friend who was sitting next to her. "Now I guess I have four."
The mom and I both looked at each other. She whispered "oh, how adorable!" and I nodded. Her daughter is blond and not a bit Korean. Isn't it amazing how kids really don't see the difference? It's like skin color doesn't exist, or if it does, it doesn't mean a thing! That's how it should be. I love getting these little glimpses through her eyes.
And that was my week. Pretty nice, I'd say. Not to mention that my husband is finally home! Happy.
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