"Waaaaaaaah!" That was me three weeks ago crying over my missing cat.
"Aaaaaaaargh!" That was me three hours ago cursing the same cat.
Life has a twisted little ironic sense of humor, don't you think? "Remember that lost cat she was all verklept over last week?" it says, jabbing its meaty finger in my directon. "Watch this."
The this life was talking about was me coming home from work two days ago and opening the door to an unused bedroom, currently serving as my closet while ours is under construction. This would also be Suzie bolting past me, happy to escape the bedroom prison she'd been trapped in since I closed the door early that morning without knowing she was lurking in the shadows. This would be me again, sniffing the corners, knowing full well that a cat can't stay in a room for 10 1/2 hours without doing something somewhere; and me smiling in dubious but heartfelt relief when I found no smell, no stain, no nothing. This would also be me this morning, opening the door to a pungent aroma wafting from the vicinity of the bed which, upon closer inspection, revealed that Suzie had chosen a cat box during her captivity after all. Not the old, soon-to-be-replaced carpet. How common, how...plebeian. Instead, the tufted, satiny plushness of a comforter atop a downy duvet, the duvet resting upon cozy blankets and sheets which, in turn, nestled on a billowy pillow-top mattress. Now there's a toilet fit for a queen.
Queen Suzie. Exactly what shall we do with Your Majesty? Charge you $55 for the dry cleaning? Silly me, you have no income, do you? Make you write "I will not soil the bed" 500 times? Oops, no opposable thumbs. Put a bell around your neck so that we'll know your whereabouts at all times? No, I think that, together with Buster's propensity for nocturnal collar shaking, would be much too annoying. I know! Let's locate that shed, garage, or whatever it was you managed to get out of awhile back, and put your royal pain in the butt back in it, shall we?
"See. Whatd'Itellya?" life says, smirking as it begins plotting my next surprise.
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I think mom must be the first reader each time you post.
ReplyDeleteSusie has become quite a liability hasn`t she. Wish I could feel sorry for you but you know how I don`t like cats. With cats I always think you get what you ask for, or deserve. Still it is a very good read. Thanks Mom
Happened to me with the now defunct Maggie. She was shut up in a closet. I rented a black light from the pet store and doused the spots with a enzyme liquid. Odor gone. It took a few bottles though. What did God want to teach us when He made cats? It was definitely for our need to learn and experience and not theirs. I am hoping Susie and Buster give more fodder for your writing. Perhaps you should write a book making them the stars.
ReplyDeletekp
you know, the other day when i was over looking for non-skanky halloween options i thought that b's room smelled a whole lot like cat urine. (i would know considering i used to live in a house sized cat box) i forgot to say something to you about it when i was there. was that before or after you found the soiled duvet cover?
ReplyDeleteMom,
ReplyDeleteSince "we" asked for a dog and got a cat, that's not entirely true in this case. But thanks for the words of encouragement. :)
Sis,
ReplyDeleteIt occurs to me that Mom must have wanted a cat subconciously since she did name you Kitty.
Audrey,
ReplyDeleteMy cat box is bigger than yours!