Posts Tagged ‘Cat’

.. so I was going to get all Once Upon A Time-ish and start spewing this story about a lonely tree in the the Holiday forest that found a home in my house.

But dinner’s in the oven and I don’t have time so you’ll just have to be bombarded with the real story.

You can't really tell from this picture but the tree really is 9 feet

Ok.

First of all, let me tell you that the painting above the gel-canister fire place is a view of  St. Mark in Italy. My mother has had that picture for EONS and thought it was A REALLY REALLY NICE GESTURE to give it to me after I bought my first house. Mind you, this was after my father died and since he was the one that actually WANTED the painting, I think she just wanted a guilt-free excuse to get rid of it.

I don’t have the heart to throw it out.. but I also do not lack decorating savvy so I only hang it when she either comes over :: which she never does :: OR when I have to send a picture of the tree to her cell phone.

This way she thinks it’s on the wall.. I get away with her thinking it’s on the wall and everybody’s happy.

Ok.. with that said..

You have to picture this so that you get the full effect.

This is a picture of the right side of my dining room. The entry way on the left side of the tree leads to the stairway to the second floor.

The fire place is one of those “real flame” ones that use the big sterno gel things. They’re actually pretty cool. You can’t tell from the picture but the fireplace itself is REAL!! wood and even though they market the ambviance .. it really does throw off mega heat.

So normally … like OTHER normal families.. the tree is put up in the living room. However, with the addition of a hand-me-down sectional from my uncle, the 52″ flat screen and 110 gallon fish tank had to be re-arranged. Putting the tree up in the living room meant that everything had to be re-arranged again.

Man’s job.

I can move around the furniture but there was NO WAY IN HELL that I was even going to think about moving the flat screen and forget about the fish tank.

His babies.. not mine.

NOTE: Although our three year old fish, Mr. Pink :: fuck him, I named them anyway :: did not die after all. I think he was just starving to death because I finally remembered to buy fish food and he came right around. Ah, another story for another time.

Anyway.. so we decide to get the tree on Friday because of the STORM! OF! THE! CENTURY! on Saturday. The plan, as Chief tells it, is to take off the webbing on Saturday so the leaves can fall and then decorate it on Sunday.

Fine. Whatever. I just wanted a damn artificial tree anyway.

So Saturday comes.. and the damn thing is still sitting on the front porch with the webbing still on.

Ok.. so he openned the shop amid the blizzard and had to walk home through it.

Big hairy deal.

Sunday morning comes around and since he didn’t cook the big breakfast to celebrate the STORM! OF! THE! CENTURY! like he said.. I figured we’d get to the tree.

Nada.

By one in the afternoon, he was conked out in the bedroom.

Well.. I guess I’ll at least go up in the attic and get the decorations out. Maybe that will spark a fire in his ass.

So I go upstairs in the attic.. now, mind you, my attic runs the full length of the house on either side. So basically I guess I have two attics. And it’s a big space. If the roof wasn’t slanted you could definitely chain a few kids to the beams and keep them there forever a while.

I don’t normally go in there. Ever. But I went in there this time and it was trashed. All the decorations from last year were just thrown around.. broken balls all over the place.. wreaths strewn about.. stocking with all kinds of shit all over them just thrown all over the place.

The kids put the decorations away last year and when I took a look at what the attic looked like I WAS ROYALLY PISSED.

I MEAN PISSED.

REALLY. REALLY. PISSED.

NOTE: OMG.. I just remembered RIGHT FREAKIN’ NOW that the cops were up there when they raided the house last year. Shit! Not that the kids wouldn’t have just thrown the decorations up there but I bet you the police did the same thing to my attic that they did to my bedroom!! Um.. how do you spell “woops”?

Ok. My bad.

Anyway.. so my little pissed off self had a discussion with my little OCD anally organized self and I cleaned the attic. Not quietly, mind you. Cursing and bitching and all of that the whole time.

I bring whatever decorations I can salvage downstairs :: funny how all the ones that broke were from girlfriend’s past, huh? Talk about irony! :: and then stomped to the front porch .. passing Bubba who was playing PS3.. lifted the 9ft tree.. started to carry it into the living room.. felt something go “ccrreeeiinnccchhh” in my 44 year old back.. dropped it.. and then started to drag it across the living room almost knocking down the flat screen tv.

Fuck it, I figured.. if nobody was going to do anything in the living room to make room for the fucking tree that I didn’t want.. then I’m just going to stick it where ever it could be stuck and that’s the corner where it is now.

Who cares if it blocks the stairs? No one is sleeping in the bedrooms upstairs anyway so go ahead… argue with me.. I DARE you!

With all the grunting and dragging and hollering at the dogs to get the HELL out of my way, Chief and Bubba lined up like little Dr. Who robots to help.

Full of fucking Christmas cheer now, arentcha boys?

So the Ultimate Tree-Putter-Upper stands the tree up in the stand and tells me he isn’t going to secure it to the wall until I put the lights and decorations on it.

ME: What are you talking about? I’m only going to decorate the part that everybody sees.

CHIEF: You’re kidding right?

ME: You’re telling me I should decorate the back of the tree? The back of the tree that’s facing the stairway that nobody is going to be able to use? You’re kidding me, right?

CHIEF: But.. um.. isn’t that.. like.. a little .. um.. ghetto?

ME: OH.. cuz we’re so fucking bourgeois, right? I forgot..

CHIEF: Forget I even said anything.

ME: Good call, Bucky.

So he goes and does something.. don’t remember what.. maybe take a hit to take the edge off.. who knows.. but as I’m trying to untangle the icicle lights to put on the tree :: yes, I did say icicle lights. I like a bright tree :: nobody remembered that we have a very curious kitten in the house. A kitten who’s natural instinct is to get into anything and everything that will make my life miserable.

So while Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy is chasing the kitten through the house she jumps.

Onto the tree.

The tree that isn’t yet secured to the walls because Father Uber-Christmas wanted lights behind it.

And it goes down.

Hard.

Onto the dining room table where I have a decorate basket filled with Christmas balls that goes sliding across the table and onto the non-carpeted floor.

I honestly wanted to cry and I don’t cry over stuff like that but I was SO overwhelmed and that just added to the overwhelmed-ness.

Chief comes running out of the bedroom and Bubba comes running into the dining room and I just put my hands out like Diana Ross stopping love and said;

JUST.

GO.

AWAY.

They knew better then to argue and where probably relieved that they got a free pass.

So I cleaned everything up and lifted the tree up. I couldn’t secure it because I’m not tall enough to secure a 9′ tree.. especially when the steps are now blocked. So I filled the base with water thinking that would at least give it some weight and proceeded to put the lights on.

Everything was going well until my OCD self just HAD to do something with the fireplace.

Remember, it takes gel canisters but I do have real logs in there just for appearances. I had bought these lights last year that look like real flames but found out the hard way that they burn too hot to put them on anything that would burn or blow up so I figured HA! I’ll put them in the fireplace.

So as I was monkeying around with them, I figured I would plug them into one of the icicle light sets. Fine. No problem.

I crawl under the tree and as I’m digging around in the branches for the end of the icicle lights, Ernie decided HE wanted to know what was under there and tried to belly crawl around me.

Ha.. ha.. cute.. UNTIL he used MY BARE FLESH to dig his claws into to pull himself under. I howled.. instinctively jerking back and amid the rain of pine needles, felt the tree falling. And me getting soaking wet from the gallon or two of water that I had put in the base.

Again the boys came running and again I told them to get the HELL away from me.

The knew I wasn’t going to be able to handle this one.. being all wrapped up in a tree and everything.. so they helped and I give them credit for trying not to laugh.

So everything gets cleaned up.. AGAIN.. and I go back to monkeying with the flicker lights.. hoping to be enveloped by some kind of holiday zen.

I finally get the lights just the way I want them :: thank you duct tape :: and go to plug them in. You know.. to the icicle lights? Yea.. well.. the only problem with that is that when the tree was re-erected for the second time it wasn’t exactly in the same spot.. so the end of the icicle lights was further way and when I tugged on the extension cord to get more leeway .. well.. you know what happened.

If you don’t.. just take a look at the picture again..

Picture me sitting in front of the fireplace where that nice little glow is coming from .. see that where the tree is? Now picture where it would fall if you tugged a little too hard on the extension cord.

Actually the tree in the picture is pushed back further then it was when it fell RIGHT ON ME the second time.. but you get the idea.

CHIEF: We’re getting an artificial one next year, huh?

ME: I hate you

CHIEF: Oh, come on.. at least I didn’t say TIMBER!!

Okay…

So we have to back up a little here…

The other day I came home from the shop and went into my bedroom to change my clothes.

For some unknown reason that I can only attribute to the fact that God takes care of babies and fools :: HINT: I’m not a baby :: I look down.

And there it is.

ME: Spaz?Spaz??SPAZ!!!!!!!!
SPAZ: Are you calling me?
ME: UM.. yea.. can you come here please?
SPAZ: What?
ME: (pointing to the floor) Can you get rid of THAT please?

NOTE: THAT being a mouse

SPAZ: Oh. Ok. I’ll get a tissue
ME: Ok.
SPAZ: What do you want me to do with it?

CONFESSION: I couldn’t watch

ME: I don’t know.. throw it outside?
SPAZ: I’m going to have to drown it
ME: WHAT??
SPAZ: (so matter-of-fact that I would be scared if it wasn’t for the mouse) Leese, it’s still alive.. you can’t make it suffer
ME: WHAT??? No, it isn’t
SPAZ: Uh-huh! Look at it.

Against better judgment, I did look. And he was right. OMG was he right!

ME: Well… well… I DON’T WANT TO THINK ABOUT IT.. just do what you got to do
SPAZ: (all proud of himself for being the man of the house at that moment) Ok. I’ll just drown it in the bucket like dad did..
ME: WHHHAAATT????
SPAZ: Hm. Guess I shouldn’t have told you that, huh?

So he did what he did :: and probably called the critter BUBBA while he was doing what he had to do :: and I promptly had a self induced black out so I wouldn’t remember it.

The following night.. at about 2am.. I had to go to the bathroom. I was in one of those not-even-awake stupors so instead of my usual jump up and down REALLY hard while turning on all the lights routine, I just made my way down the 4ft of hallway to my bathroom.

And stepped on something.

Squishy.

I squealed like I never heard another human being squeal before ending with CHIEF!CHIEF!OMG!GETUP!OMG!HELP!HELP!

Chief come running out of the bedroom .. well.. that’s an exaggeration because like I said, it’s only about four feet from my bedroom door to the bathroom and I was only halfway there.. and finds me leaning up against the wall with my foot up almost sobbing OMG!OMG!OMG!

He had the good sense not to chastise me on the whole “.. taking the Lord’s name in vain” thing.

“Good God, woman, what are you screaming about?”

Actually, that’s not what he said but I KNOW he was thinking it!!

OMG! I stepped on a mouse.. I can feel it between my toes! Get it off! Get it off! GET. IT. OFF!

All of a sudden he starts getting hysterical and I tell him that he has every right to laugh AFTER he gets the mouse off of me.

Through the gasps of air he’s trying to breath.. he points to my foot and tells me that it isn’t a mouse.

OF COURSE, IT’S A MOUSE YOU DUMBASS! NOW GET IT OFF!

He swears that it isn’t but reaches out to my foot and takes off the offensive mass.

I don’t know what it is, he tells me. Look at it.

OH.

HELL.

NO!

There is no way in hell that I was going to fall for one of his “Let’s Make Leese Squirm” bits at 2am.

I tell him that he tells me that, honestly, it isn’t a mouse.. he doesn’t know what it is and it’s blue.

Blue?

BLUE?

I slowly open my eyes to look and it’s part of a stress ball that Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy had ripped apart like.. three weeks ago.

Where it came from and how it got to where it was is still a mystery but BIG SIGH OF RELIEF.. it wasn’t what I thought it was so I could die happy.

Apparently, the whole Get-A-Kitty plan is working out. Not for the mice.

So last night, we’re in bed watching Dexter :: great show.. you have to watch! :: and I reach over to grab my cup of coffee on the window sill and again.. for some unknown reason that I can only attribute to God looking out for the fool that I am, I look down and see a dead mouse next to my bed.

ME: Um, Yo.. Chief?
HIM: Hmm?
ME: There’s a dead mouse next to the bed, can you get it?

To his credit, he didn’t wait until Dexter was over.. but got right up and took care of the issue.

So what’s this all got to do with the title of this post?

Heh.. well.. if you haven’t figured it out yet then you may need to suck up some of that herbal stuff that makes your brain work.

This afternoon I came home from the shop and was getting the laundry together. Next to my side of the bed, there is a little hamper type thingy that I use for my own socks and underwear. Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy was apparently playing the stuffed animal that has no stuffing left next to the bed.

I step on in while I was leaning over to get my little hamper type thingy .. barefooted.. and I stepped on something cold. And wet.

Not really knowing WHAT it was but knowing that it wasn’t GOOD.. I did the whole “EWWWWW!!!” thing and shook my foot.. releasing what was stuck to it.. which was a cold.. wet.. dead.. mouse.

A cold.. wet.. dead.. mouse that flew into the wall and bounced back onto the floor.

The scream was real.

Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy.. deciding that he was going to get into a WHOLE lot of trouble for leaving a cold, wet, dead mouse next to my bed for me to step on… figured his best course of action was to get rid of the evidence. So he grabbed it and dived under the bed with it.

Where it still remains.

I called Chief up and told him what happened and the silence told  me everything I needed to know about his man.

He REALLY wanted to laugh his ass off but knew that that was NOT the appropriate thing to do so instead went into an analysis of it’s :: and others :: demise… that being that the kitten is getting the mice and Ernie, the self absorbed, narcissistic, self fuck that he is.. is taking them from her.

My psyche is scarred beyond repair, I think.

So I went ahead and dug my Burberry plaid rain boots out of the closet and will be wearing them through the house from now on.

Cause, yknow.. they’re rubber so I can just hose them off!!

So Pretty the Kitten :: no matter how much Chief calls her Katu, her name is still Pretty :: is adjusting quite well.

Her normal routine is hide sleep during the day and then play to her hearts content at night.

Which, you know, considering that I have a mouse TWO mice, is just fine by me!

She’s eating well.. pooping like there’s no tomorrow in her brand spanking new litter box :: thank Jen512 :: and until she tells you she wants to play, is like she isn’t even here.

The scratching post I bought her is working out great.. she hasn’t yet scratched the furniture or tried to climb the curtains.

She’ll let you cuddle with her and and will ball herself in the crook of your legs  or on your chest or the nook of your arm.

She’s fine with the dogs and is just a real sweetheart.

One funny thing..

Her arrival was the catalyst to an new Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy trick.

Now.. when you say WHO’S THE BABY? he jump up in your lap and throw his body backwards so that he’s cradled in your arm like an infant and nuzzles his nose into your neck as if to say ME! ME! I’M THE BABY.. NOT HER!!!

I have to find the video camera.. as annoying as it can get to be, it’s just too damn cute!

… soon to be re-named KATU ( as in Cat II ). Not sure if you can really RENAME cats but whatever.

The allusive kitty FINALLY came out of hiding.. in the daylight.. and I got her interested enough in a magical shoelace to stay put in one place and get her picture taken.

These aren’t the best ones.. but at least you get to see what she looks like.

NOTE: I can’t believe my walls do NOT look like their a weird shade of creamcicle. But that’s a WHOLE other story!

KATU aka PRETTY

KATU aka PRETTY

ERNIE: But I'M the baby!!!!!!!

ERNIE: But I'M the baby!!!!!!!

String? STRING? oooohhhh CATNIP!!

String? STRING? oooohhhh CATNIP!!

Heh! Somebody Better Tell Chief To Stay Away From MY CatNip!!

Heh! Somebody Better Tell Chief To Stay Away From MY CatNip!!

… the name of our new kitten!

Wasn’t my idea.. she came with it.

I would post pictures of her but she’s hiding out in the kitty condo I got for her so black cats in dark holes don’t necessarily make for good pictures. But I’ll get them.. I promise!

So anyway, Bird brings her over on Thursday around 2:30. For some reason.. and I still don’t know what.. she comes knocking on the BACK door and the dogs just go absolutely insane. I wanted the poor kitten to have a more zen arrival but.. well.. that didn’t happen.

Bird puts the carrier on the kitchen floor figuring the dogs would sniff at it or whatever but nope.. they were only interested in barking at the top of their lungs. Ernie even pulled out the I’M-REALLY-A-PITBULL-BE-SCARED-OF-ME bark.

Anyway.. so not long after Bird got there, I had to go pick up Spaz from school. He asked me to when I dropped him off because it’s starting to get chilly and I haven’t been able to find him a heavier jacket yet. So Bird and I pick him up and when we get back to the house, he asks if he can hold Pretty.

Bird takes her out of the carrier… Ernie right away sticks his big black nose in her face… Pretty jumps out of Bird’s arms and dives behind the corner of the sectional sofa.

Ok.. she’s scared, let her be a little. Sounds reasonable, right? Yea.. except letting her “be” caused her to get stuck under the radiator.

I mean.. STUCK under the radiator.

Bird starts freaking a little.. Spaz wants to call the fire department for the Jaws of Life and I’m all you got to be kidding me, right?

So I pull the one side of the sofa out.. tell Bird to grab her from the front and I’ll just start pushing her ass forward. It worked.. we got her un-stuck but now I had to go around every place in the house where she could possibly wedge herself and either block it or stuff it or tape over it or weld over it.

In the meantime, Bird forgot to bring over the litter box so we leave Spaz with Pretty and run over to Kmart. Bird prefers Kmart over WalMart and even though it’s further, I wasn’t going to split hairs with her.

I get the litter box with the top thingy.. I get a scratching post.. I get this condo thing where she can hide out in and two containers of clumping litter that doesn’t clump the way it’s suppose to but I can deal with that. Knowing how I am there’s no way in HELL that that box will have even the slightest chance of smelling.

We get everything home and I set Pretty up on the table in the back porch. I figured that was a good spot because the table is high enough for Ernie NOT to be able to jump on it and it will provide Pretty with a sense of protection and safety.

Bird leaves :: taking Spaz with her :: with instructions that I should hold Pretty off and on so she gets used to me being the Momma. No problem.. I’m all about holding baby animals.

We kind of leave her to herself on Thursday. Chief and I had somewhere to go and didn’t get back until late and Bubba was just home doing whatever he does when he’s home alone :: don’t ask ::

Friday morning, I kind of felt bad leaving her on the back porch so I moved her condo to the living room and put it up on the electric fireplace so she could at least be in another room.. stare out the window.. stare at the fish tank.. SOMETHING.

I hold her for awhile before taking Spaz to school and going to the shop for my shift.

I get home around 2:30 and Pretty is just fine. Still in her little condo. In fact, things are SO fine that Ernie didn’t even destroy her scratching post. Although he has become even BIGGER black hole of love and affection.. constantly throwing himself across your body like a sack of potatoes whining “.. but I’M the baby!”

We let Pretty be until Chief comes home. He takes her out of her condo and is cuddling with her and letting her walk on the back of the couch.

It’s funny to see her interact with Ernie. One of the main reasons why I wanted HER is because she’s already used to dogs. So when Ernie would poke his big black nose towards her she would stretch out her paw at him and he would jump  back about 2 feet. Then do it again.. and again.. and again.. we were laughing our asses off.

At some point, I thought that maybe she needed to either use the litter box or get something to eat or drink. I wasn’t sure whether she would remember where it was to I picked her up and brought her back to were her digs were and she jumped out of my arms and went right in to do her business.

Good sign.

When neither Chief nor I could keep our eyes open, we went into the bedroom to go to sleep and he suggested I take Pretty in the bedroom with us just so she can get used to us more and know that she’s allowed in our room. We put her on the bed with us and of course, Ernie has to crawl in between me and Chief and when I turned on my side Pretty cuddled up in the crook of my legs.

It was sweet and I fell asleep rather quickly.

Chief went to work without waking me and when I got up Pretty was gone.

Right now, I can’t find her.

I looked in her condo.. looked in the bedroom.. looked in the living room.. looked all over. I know she’s somewhere but I’m not too worried about it because she’s vocal so if she’s somewhere she can’t get out of she’ll let me know.

So all you cat people out there… help me out here.

What should I expect.. what am I doing wrong.. what should I do differently.. what can I do to make this the happiest cat ever! LOL!