December 12, 2001

Kitten Craving

prev home mail archive next Momentary Thought I wrote today's "Low" first, which prompted the thought, what the heck does "under the weather" mean? Taken literally, it makes no sense at all. High/Low High: One of Arizona's ski resorts is opening this weekend! Low: You know, for once I don't have one. Except that Calvin's feeling a bit under the weather. Current Obsession Hearing from Michael on when he's coming home. Grin Source An e-mail that's been circulating around work, about a "little boy born without a body". I love this line especially: "Maybe one day I will be able to play baseball. Right now I can only be third base." The whole thing is at the bottom of the entry, and if you're insulted by my sick sense of humor, don't read it! Singing Well the weather outside is frightful, But the fire is so delightful. And since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! A Year Ago More or less I write a lot about how wonderful I think Calvin is. Here's another one of those entries. Storyteller Bio Dramatis Personnae Who I Read Recipes

Calvin has Issued an Edict, which I more or less agree with. No Cats in the Animal Planet we call home. He is rather Against Cats. Not that he doesn't like them, but he had one (questionably named - and family members will know what I mean by that) cat when he was small that he just loved, and after that cat there was just No Other. I had Min (she came with X(m) and I from Maine when we moved to AZ) when he and I got together, but after the Unfortunate Vacuuming Incident of this summer, Min had to find another home. Actually, the story is rather funny, now. Calvin was vacuuming, and he put the brush attachment on the hose and went after Min. I forget what lead up to it, but Min was in a less than charitable mood. She'd been vacuumed before and liked it, but this time it was different. Calvin approached her with the vacuum, she Freaked Out, and sunk her teeth into the heel of his hand. She bolted like a, well, cat out of hell. Calvin dripped a trail of blood, Hansel and Gretel style, into the kitchen where he applied pressure with a paper towel. Some rather furious words were exchanged between he and I. He wanted to commit a cat assassination right then and there, and I rather stubbornly stood in the way of those plans. So, and I kid you not, he issued the ultimatim - "The cat goes, or I go." He wasn't serious of course. Just wounded and mad. He expected me to side with him on the cat-kicking end of things, but I sided with the cat. "What did you expect her to do? You tried to vacuum her!" He stomped into the bedroom, I stomped up the stairs to Michael's room, and Marie stood in the living room blinking owlishly after us. The next day Min went to live with X(m)'s sister, the cat lover (she's got six). Now, understand, it wasn't just that incident that made me give up the cat, nor was it that I believed Calvin's ultimatim (which I didn't, to his frustration at the time). So close your e-mails, because Calvin was NOT the bad guy in this situation. Min was just not happy in our dog-infested home, and I'd been seriously looking for a new home for her for about a month prior to that incident, anyway. That was just the Final Straw that convinced me to swallow my pride (or, well, not pride, but swallow *something*. Probably another bite of shit sandwich) and call my ex's sister. Her husband came to pick the cat up (and they got a good deal - a pet carrier, a litter box, a brush, and a bunch of food) and that was that. I wasn't even particularly upset, since I knew that Min was going to a place where she'd be much happier. You can think me a Big Meany if you want to - bringing dogs into the house and making the cat, who'd been there from the beginning, leave. But you've never met this cat. She's nice enough, but no great loss to our household. Kind of a loner, and bitchy. You cat folks will know what I mean. She was always more X(m)'s cat, anyway. And now he has her back, because he lives with his cat-loving sister (which fact they tried to hide from me in the beginning, but her husband let it slip when he came to pick up the cat). Anyway, after that, I was pretty convinced that cats in our household was a bad idea. Marie has chirped up every now and then with the request to get a kitten, but it's been shot down every time. Until I read Jen's entry (she's back! Yay!). And got to thinking. I've had a cat since I was eight years old. My mother gave me a kitten for my eighth birthday, the last she spent with me. His name was Todd, named after the fox in "The Fox and The Hound". I spent a blissful month with Todd, until it was discovered that I was allergic to him. He went to live with my Grandmother. As circumstances would have it, I too went to live with my Grandmother within that year. So Todd and I were reunited. He was an excellent cat and lived to be a grand old age. He'd bring us "gifts" of moles, birds, or chipmunks - placed lovingly on the back porch and then yowled over until my grandmother or I came to the back door and exclaimed over his prize. He'd then pick it up and carry it to a spot he had under the porch. Except for once, when he caught a bird and managed to bring it into the house before Grandma realized he had it. And it wasn't dead. So of course it flew around the house. You've never seen anything so funny as my Grandmother chasing a bird around the living room with a broom, all the while yelling at that "damn cat" for bringing it in. You see that bell around his neck in the picture? Grandma "belled" him to prevent him from catching the birds at the birdfeeder. You see how well it worked. Todd was incredibly smart, too. Grandma didn't allow him to sit on the back of the couch so he could look out the picture window. He had one chair he was allowed on and that was all. But Todd would sit on the back of the couch, anyway, when Grandma wasn't home. And as soon as he heard the garage door opening, he'd jump down and sit under the coffee table, looking innocent as you please by the time Grandma came in the door. Problem was, he'd leave a warm spot and some heiney fir behind, so Grandma knew what he was up to. At any rate, I got a letter from Grandma a couple of years ago saying that Todd finally passed away, in his sleep, curled up in front of the fireplace one cold January night. X(m) and I had a cat, which we named Corkey, for about six months when we first got married. Unfortunately, Corkey got Ate one night. At least, we're making that assumption based on the howling that took place in the woods the night she disappeared. One just has to have the understanding that that type of thing is a possibility, when one owns animals in the back woods of Maine. Then, a couple of days before we moved out to Arizona, X(m) and I got Min. And drove for six days with her. She was vocal the whole way. It got so frustrating that in the end we took to locking her in her box in the car we were towing behind the truck we were driving. She could meow her head off if she wanted, and we couldn't hear her. Now Todd was what Calvin would term a "Cool Cat". If we could guarantee getting one of *those*, I'd pick up a kitten in a heartbeat and Calvin wouldn't mind at all. A short-haired, with manners and a good personality, that doesn't claw the furniture, doesn't smell, and doesn't produce hairballs with alarming frequency. Or maybe a pair of kittens, that could grow up together, play together, and wash each other's faces. The dogs would find them fascinating, I'm sure. And if they grew up around dogs (who wouldn't hurt them, I'm sure - they play well with the ferret, after all), they wouldn't have the same problem Min had. That's why I think it would be better to get a kitten, rather than a grown cat. But only Cool Cats are allowed in Animal Planet. And unfortunately, you can't tell if a kitten is going to grow up to be a Cool Cat. So, unless something unforseen happens (read: if Calvin comes home with a kitten, thereby making it *his* idea), I think we shall remain a Catless Family. At least that lessens my chances of stepping in a horked up hairball with my bare feet in the middle of the night.