My cat...what can I say. When we moved into a house, I really wanted a cat. We realized that there wasn't really a place for a litter box and I didn't want to have to worry about my cat roaming out. So, for four years, I didn't really think about it. Last year on my birthday, while eating dinner, after admiring my electric griddle, the hubby said he also wanted to get me a cat. Unfortunately, he said this in front of our two girls. Not the smartest thing. I really wanted a cat, but he had me convinced that there wasn't a place in our house for a cat.
A lady in the ward had offered me a cat a few weeks ago when she watched my 4 year old smother a friend's kitten. So, while I was at Relief Society one night, he and the girls went and rounded up the cat. When I got home, "T" was hiding under our couch. He slinked out to talk to me, but he ran back under the couch whenever someone else came around.
Forward a few weeks...the predictions about the litter box had come to pass. It was nestled between the wall and the washing machine. It works okay, there's even a fan, but the little guy COULD NOT walk out of the box without dragging some of his deposits with him. I was so stressed out from grabbing him every time he went potty and washing off of his paws, I finally broke down and tossed him outside.
We were planning on getting him fixed when he turned 4 months and that ended up the day before Princess Fiona (my youngest's pseudonym) got admitted to Children's Hospital. So, he spent most of his time outside while we coped with chemo.
Then he came in one morning with a big puncture wound to a front paw. Princess Buttercup (the older daughter) saw it and burst into tears. He survived that only to come up with another one. We figured he kept running into the branch of a bush. Plenty of prayers went into fixing him. Then he showed up with what we diagnosed (thanks to the internet) as the kitty flu. Much more shocking with felines than with humans. He looked like he was bleeding from the nose and mouth. We kept him in the garage and after a few days, he managed to recover. I couldn't hardly believe it.
Now, his latest thing is big time fights with what we think is a dog, during the nights that he is out roaming. He looks all mangy because as his wounds scab over, he loses fur.
This cat would have been more responsible for gray hair, than just about anyone, assuming I had gray hair. He is a member of the family and we all love him and it freaks us out when he comes home all messed up. He's pretty smart, he actually wipes his paws on the mat when he comes in and he says Mama, I kid you not. I have always said that he was Mama's little boy since we've had him. We are hoping to have him fixed soon, as soon as he heals up. We don't want the cat shelter taking him away from us, for being bad kitty parents. I hope that once he is fixed he will chill out a bit more. My stress level can't take it any more.
A lady in the ward had offered me a cat a few weeks ago when she watched my 4 year old smother a friend's kitten. So, while I was at Relief Society one night, he and the girls went and rounded up the cat. When I got home, "T" was hiding under our couch. He slinked out to talk to me, but he ran back under the couch whenever someone else came around.
Forward a few weeks...the predictions about the litter box had come to pass. It was nestled between the wall and the washing machine. It works okay, there's even a fan, but the little guy COULD NOT walk out of the box without dragging some of his deposits with him. I was so stressed out from grabbing him every time he went potty and washing off of his paws, I finally broke down and tossed him outside.
We were planning on getting him fixed when he turned 4 months and that ended up the day before Princess Fiona (my youngest's pseudonym) got admitted to Children's Hospital. So, he spent most of his time outside while we coped with chemo.
Then he came in one morning with a big puncture wound to a front paw. Princess Buttercup (the older daughter) saw it and burst into tears. He survived that only to come up with another one. We figured he kept running into the branch of a bush. Plenty of prayers went into fixing him. Then he showed up with what we diagnosed (thanks to the internet) as the kitty flu. Much more shocking with felines than with humans. He looked like he was bleeding from the nose and mouth. We kept him in the garage and after a few days, he managed to recover. I couldn't hardly believe it.
Now, his latest thing is big time fights with what we think is a dog, during the nights that he is out roaming. He looks all mangy because as his wounds scab over, he loses fur.
This cat would have been more responsible for gray hair, than just about anyone, assuming I had gray hair. He is a member of the family and we all love him and it freaks us out when he comes home all messed up. He's pretty smart, he actually wipes his paws on the mat when he comes in and he says Mama, I kid you not. I have always said that he was Mama's little boy since we've had him. We are hoping to have him fixed soon, as soon as he heals up. We don't want the cat shelter taking him away from us, for being bad kitty parents. I hope that once he is fixed he will chill out a bit more. My stress level can't take it any more.
1 comment:
Welcome to the world of blogging! It's quite therapeutic if you can avoid getting too caught up in the number of comments. I tell ya, it can be worse than high school. Do people like me? Do they agree with what I'm writing? Do they care that I'm writing at all? Yikes, there is likely group therapy for all the bloggers out there. Because of my own comment obsession, I have vowed to comment on every blog I visit. It's only fair! My advice is to get a visitor counter because many people don't subscribe to my same mandatory comment philosophy.
We had a cat when we were first married. The thing was as crazy as they came but I loved him. Cats, can't live with 'em...hmmmm, not sure how to end that. Oh well, they're fun when they allow you to pet them. My cat would literally climb my leg like a scratching post but that 5 minutes he would spend purring on my lap made it all right. Gotta love those finicky felines.
Keep up the writing, I will be a faithful reader.
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