How Our Cat Sees the World
Our "Special" Kitty
Box = Happy Happy Fun Place
Wall = TV
Floss = Toy Dispenser
Hair Bands = Snacks
Face = Chew Toy
Magic Land of Infinite Fun and Happiness
Nightmare Land of Fear and Asassins
As I said, Tinkerbell is a little slow, at best. Just this morning she started to fall off the bathroom counter for no apparent reason. She saved her self from the 2 foot fall by latching onto my ring finger with one claw. I now have a tiny puncture wound. Tink is constantly looking out of windows and doorways, begging to be released into her “natural habitat”. Like most cats she is painfully curious, and her two attempts to exist outside for more than five minutes have ended disasterously.
When I was in college, I lived in an apartment with a few roommates, which I think is pretty “pathet”, or “really cool way to live”. One night, as a roommate was leaving, Tink snuck outside. We were living on the edge of San Marcos at the time, and everything around was a cactus-y wasteland. Hubby and I didn’t notice she was missing until the other cat, Mudface, started looking for her.
We went outside with her jingle bell toy, calling her name and asking the neighbors if they’d seen her. We looked for 45 minutes or so, then headed back to the apartment, preparing for a serious search and rescue effort into the scrub lands. Hubby heard a pathetic mewing coming from a holly bush, three feet from our front door. Tink had achieved her goal of reaching the outside world, then panicked, and hid in the closest place possible.
The second time she was outdoors was much, much worse, but it makes for a funny story now. She was sick, and we were driving from Houston to San Antonio at night. She started acting really odd and twitchy, like she had to use the bathroom. I had the bright idea that we should pull over at the next rest area and see if she would go on the grass. I hadn’t had cats very long at this point in my life, or Tinkerbell in particular, so I had no idea how ridiculously stupid I was being.
She took off towards the woods. Hubby and I ran wildly after her, but to either side so we wouldn’t scare her into running further away. The area was partially lit, but she headed for the dark area, with a lot of trees, and who knows what else. Thankfully, she ran up a tree. Like 20 feet straight into the air. Then she sat up there and cried.
We called the local sheriff who showed up 45 minutes later and determined that we needed the fire department (Cat up a tree, and we need the fire department? I can see I’m not the only clever one here!). The “fire department” showed up another 30 or 45 minutes later.
When I say “fire department” I mean “two guys in a Toyota pick up with a ladder tied to the top”. It was a small town, but this was still less than comforting. The one guy put on his whole fire fighter suit, complete with helmet, before he would climb the ladder to get my retarded kitten. I can only assume he didn’t have a lot of oppotunities to use his gear, so he was probably really excited, and wanted to look professional.
He climbed the ladder and rescued her, and it was super dramatic and heart wrenching. We eventually got her home, and she was fine. She still tries to talk me into letting her outside periodically, but I have learned my lesson quite thoroughly.
Part 2: Seriously, call Stephen Hawking
This is part 2 in the Strange World of Clever Chick. Odd things have been happening to me for weeks now, and I had to document it, or lose what’s left of my sanity.
We have a very sad peach tree in the back yard. The previous owners, who we all know are morons, planted the thing at a 45 degree angle, so that it’s leaning across the only pathway in and out of the back yard. It is also surrounded by tons of massive trees, so it never gets enough sun. We live in Texas, so it never gets enough water, but neither does anything else. The first year we lived in the house, there were a series of hail storms that knocked every baby peach off the tree. The second year, squirrels at them all. This year however, we have Flapjack.
He chases squirrels like he’s in doggy heaven. It doesn’t matter if they’re in the trees, or on top of the fence, or in the yard. He races after each one as though he will really catch it. When they get into the peach tree, he can reach them because there’s a bench next to it, so I had high hopes of harvesting my own fruit this year. The peaches had a guardian. I have even been watering that crooked, ungrateful wretch every night. I went out there on Thursday to water. The peaches were about the size of a 50 cent piece, and starting to turn peach! I went out there on Friday. No need to water. They had all vanished overnight.
Last night, Tinkerbell, our Siamese cat, inexplicably started attacking the Chrsitmas lights that hang over our bed. They’ve been up for over a year, and she’s never taken any notice of them. She has brain damage from being hit by a car years ago, so I just picked her up, and carried her away from the lights, hoping she’d forget they were there. Hubby and I were laying in bed reading, and petting Flapjack. He likes to lay in bed between us for a little while before he goes to sleep on the floor. He suddenly perked up, and I realized he was looking very intently at something to the left of my head. I looked to see what was so fascinating. A roach.
I think I teleported. The next thing I knew I was standing on top of the ottoman, shrieking. Hubby already had a shoe in hand. Somehow he’d gotten the roach onto the floor, and was attempting to destroy it, but those things are crafty. After much shrieking, running, jumping, and more shrieking on my part, Hubby destroyed and flushed the beast. Woe ye who piss off my Husband, for that shalt be thoroughly vanquished with a flip flop. I, of course, was super-paranoid the rest of the night. I had to sleep with my hair in a braid, because I would flip out every time I saw one of my dark brown locks from the corner of my eye. We all know I do not deal well with roaches. I hope this teaches you all to pay attention to your animals. They don’t just predict hurricanes, and notify us of children in wells.
Another tiny weird thing happened the other day. I was in the shower, and I was washing my very long, heavy hair. A section of it dropped, hitting me on the shoulder. It felt like someone laid their hand on me, and it was freaky as hell!!
Some of you know that we’ve been attempting to have our upstairs bathroom remodeled for months now. There was a long-term leak (again left by the previous home owners, those fantastic human beings), which caused a ton of sheet rock to be damaged, so we have to have the entire tub, and tile surround area removed and replaced. All of this was supposed to be completed in April, but everything has been delayed repeatedly because we ordered our bathtub from Austin Plumbing Supply (link is to the Yelp page because their website has been shut down).
They were constantly putting us off, saying there were delays, or just not responding to emails or calls at all. After a few weeks of this, I looked them up on yelp, and they have only terrible reviews. They have an average of 1 out of 5 stars, so that should tell you something. Sometimes, I’m just not as clever as I try to be. I should have researched them before making a major purchase, but hopefully all of you lovely little minions can learn from my mistake. We finally got the tub and one of the parts delivered to the house, with the promise that the other part would be arriving in a couple weeks.
After even more back-and-forth, I got an email from my contractor this morning. They are closed. Went bankrupt. I think it’s kind of funny. I mean they deserve it, but they either owe me a part, or $75. I’ve already called my bank to dispute the charges since they didn’t deliver the product, so in a way this isn’t my problem any more. It’s nice to not worry about that horrible company anymore (at least for now), but we’re still no closer to being able to shower upstairs.
To top EVERYTHING off, my high school reunion is THIS FRIDAY (as I’m writing this. As you’re reading this, it was yesterday)!! That’s right it’s my ten year five year reunion (yes, I’m uh..(carry the 4)…23! Really!!) on Friday. I’ve been dieting, and I’ve lost about 10 pounds in the past 3 weeks, but it’s getting hard to be good. I went to Wendy’s yesterday. I still hang out with lots of my friends from high school, so I don’t think I’m nervous, but I keep having crazy dreams, like I’m supposed to get married but forgot to plan the wedding, or I’m supposed to be in medical school, but I never went to any classes, or I got a job but forgot to finish college, so now I have to finish it on the side without my boss finding out. All these crazy things keep happening, which are small, but they’re big enough to keep my slightly off-balance. Add bad sleep to that equation, and you get one crazy Clever Chick. Everyone, please wish me luck, and don’t let me have any carbs until Saturday.
How I Deal with Roaches
Most people who know me, would say that I’m pretty level-headed. I don’t freak out about most stuff, and I am great to have around in emergencies. When I had a nose piercing go bad, and shoot blood up into my eye, Hubby was running around, freaking out, and shrieking incoherently. I calmly put my head back, held the wound shut, and told him where the paper towels were. I held pressure on it for 20 minutes or so until the bleeding subsided. (That is more of a cautionary tale about making sure you get a piercer who knows what they’re doing, not about piercings in general).
All that being said, I have just endured a situation which had me cry-screaming in what can only be described as pure panic. I’m coming down from the adrenaline right now, so I thought I’d type up my little synopsis before my traumatized brain wipes it out permanently.
This morning, I was at the Palmer Events Center for a massive charity garage sale (there may be a post or two on that later). I got home, starved, shopped out, and with what feels like a cold taking over my body. I wanted nothing more than a sandwich and a nap. This goal in mind, I headed for the kitchen. I decided to be good, and start a load of laundry. It was this seemingly innocuous act that started the “incident”.
It all happened in a blur. One second I was pulling a sheet off the top of the pile, the next I saw the roach attempting to flee. It jumped off the dog food container, and ran behind my massive laundry bin. I screamed. In an empty house, all alone, I screamed like I was up for an Oscar. The thing was hidden behind the laundry bin in the corner, situated so that there was nowhere else it could go. I grabbed my dust pan, and a cat litter scoop, and tossed the laundry bin out of the way.
Even though I was expecting it, I shrieked again like Sarah Palin was in my house. I screamed the type of scream that just comes out of you, with no thought or rationality. It is visceral, from the un-evolved part of the brain. Afterward, I even questioned how I made such a sound, and hoped the neighbors didn’t call the police (but maybe the police could save me from the roach???)
Somehow, it was trapped on its back, wriggling to try and right itself. Knowing I had very little time, I called Tinkerbell to come rescue me from it. My panic must have frightened her, because she backed away, under the kitchen chair. I grabbed her by a leg and dragged her into the laundry room. She took one look at the roach, usually one of her favorite toys, and ran off. One of the main reasons I own cats had just evaporated in front of me. I would have to deal with this myself.
I ran for the kitchen sink and my trusty array of chemicals. But there was no roach spray! I must have run out sometime ago, and never bought more! I searched for ANYTHING toxic to spray the bastard with. No! Only non-toxic, eco-friendly cleaning products!! I found some Anywhere Hard Surface Sanitizer with bleach, and sprayed him with it. No good. He just wriggled more furiously, and was nearing the wall! What if he flipped over??
I remembered hearing that Borax cuts through their exoskeletons and kills them. I edged past the demon-spawn and got my trusty 20 Mule Team. I poured at least a cup of Borax on it, but it only seemed to give him traction! He was wriggling away from the wall now, which was an improvement, but it was covering much more ground, which made me more nervous.
Now that I had poured bleach and Borax on the disgusting little home invader, I wasn’t sure what to do. I was hesitant to mix chemicals by pouring more onto it. I was debating whether or not I could pour a small enough amount of various chemicals on it to create a toxic gas, but in a small enough amount to only kill the roach. I was also concerned with one of the cats attempting to eat it, so I didn’t want it to be too toxic. I even considered waiting until Hubby got home from work, but that meant I would have to WATCH this grotesque thing wriggle and thrash around the floor for an hour, and possibly still have to kill it myself.
The roach stopped moving. It just sat there. I am well aware that they frequently play possum, but I decided to try and get it across the house to a toilet and flush it. “I don’t have to kill it”, I thought to myself. “I can flush it whether or not it’s dead!” This seemed ingenious, and I decided to bravely scoop it up and race for the bathroom. I decided to use the litter scoop I’d grabbed earlier, not realizing the slots on the scoop would only give it something to grab onto! Which it did. I screamed again, at the same volume and pitch as before. If the neighbors didn’t think I was getting murdered before, they sure did now.
I tried to squish it with the scoop, but I cannot BEAR even the thought of squishing one. Fortunately, it ended up right back on its back. At this point I was in complete useless, sniveling panic mode. Every movement and sound made me paranoid. I kept feeling like there were bugs all over me. Any dark area in my peripheral vision was another roach. I texted Hubby the following (this is completely true. I really wish I was exaggerating):
Me: THERE IS A ROACH (yes in all caps)
No answer for a couple minutes…
Me (while whimpering softly): I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO
Hubby: (finally) Where is it (he is way to calm about this! No punctuation? Don’t you realize this is serious?!!?)
Me: In the laundry room. Are you on your way yet?
Hubby: No half an hour left
Me: OH GOD
At this point, I have been struggling to destroy this monstrosity for 20 minutes. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I went back to the sink, and there in the back is one lone bottle of Kaboom! Thank you Billy Mays!! I edged back over to the laundry room. I unloaded on the horror, and watched it for as long as I could stand it. I then left the room, and sat down. I checked back on it periodically, and it eventually stopped moving. I breathed a tiny sigh of relief, and went to make my sandwich. (I was frightened, but still hungry).
Hubby finally made it home, and wandered through the house checking the mail, etc. He totally underestimated the gravity of the situation. “Go get the roach!” I shrieked at him, panic not as well disguised as I had hoped. He looked at me like “calm down, crazy lady”, and finally went into the lanudry room.
Hubby: “Where is it?”
Me: “In the laundry room”
Hubby: “No, where is it? I don’t see it in here”
Me (banshee voice comes back): “WHAT?!?!”
Hubby: “Bahahhahaa!”
Me: “That’s not funny!”
Now I’m exhausted.
UPDATE: I just read this post to Hubby, and he laughed. When I looked over at him, he was looking up pictures of roaches on his computer!!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM???
