That's right. There IS a part two! Please don't be mad that I didn't tell you about it sooner. I know you were all worried sick (yea, right). Okay, to back up, our cat got out last Saturday. The neighbors were alerted last Sunday. The temperatures at that point were below freezing and the ground was covered with snow and ice. The neighbors that I thought should have the cat did NOT. I didn't have much hope. I did, however, have a big old pile of guilt, screaming in my ear, and generally making it hard to sleep or think.
Monday, my dad drove around the neighborhood, looking for signs of the cat. Monday evening, Jim and I drove around the neighborhood (at different times). Tuesday night, I drove around the neighborhood again. Wednesday I took Dylan to school, then home, and I was busy with him all day. Wednesday, around dinner time, the phone rang. It was the neighbor lady who said she would take the cat. "Guess who just came to my door?", she asked. WOOHOO!! Take that, guilt (kicking it off my shoulder, and shoving it's face in the snow). Who knows where the cat was for those 4 days? Who cares? It is safe.
Just when I thought the stray's story (as far as I was concerned at least) was over "cat lady" neighbor informed me "One of my other cats has an upper respiratory infection and I just had to get $200 worth of antibiotics at the vets, so I have your cat shut in a room away from the other cats (she already has two and a dog)? Then came the request. "Would you mind taking your cat to the vet's, to get updated shots, and to just make sure she is healthy and okay to be around my other animals, before I take her?" Well, crap! I couldn't exactly say no. But, of course you know what that meant... the stray found it's way back into my basement, and there it was once again tripping me as I tried to go down the stairs.
Luckily, I was able to get an appointment on Friday. My mom stayed with Dylan, while my dad and I took the stray. The "cat lady" had warned me that the stray "REALLY" didn't like getting in the carrier, but after only two tries she was in, and we were on our way. On the way there, she started "Meowing" like crazy, and we could hardly talk over her. Then, the stench hit us. "OH...MY...(Gag! Gag! Gag!)"... "ARE YOU KIDDING ME? (Gag!)" (Windows being rolled down frantically)... Then, my dad, "DON'T LOOK! Do.Not.Look. I don't want to know".... Then, both of us cracking up laughing at the absurdity of the situation... Gagging... Laughing...Freezing cold air blowing in the window...cat meowing...gagging... Fun times.
Oh, and getting the stray healthy enough to take to the "cat lady"? Cost me $150. On Saturday, before I took her over to "cat lady" FOREVER, I asked Jim, "Do you have any parting words for the cat?" "Bye!" he called over his shoulder, already on his way back up the stairs. We are quite emotional, as you can tell. I nearly cried, though...(with joy), when I got my "You owe me!" 10 minute foot massage later.
Showing posts with label neighbors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label neighbors. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
The Stray Saga - Part I
As those of you who have been around since this post know, Jim and I took in a stray cat the same year I got pregnant with Dylan. I never wanted a cat. I got suckered into it by my husband, and the cat that was looking more and more pitiful each time it came around. Since the beginning, I insisted that the cat be an outdoor cat, with the exception of winters, when we kept her in the basement. Since I am allergic to cats, I knew there was a chance Dylan would also be allergic.
If you read this post, you know that the stray had kittens before "we" ever got around to having it spayed. When "we" found homes for the two kittens, "we" also tried to find a home for the stray. No friends or family wanted her, and the no kill shelters were full every time I called, so eventually "we" just quit trying and accepted that she would be ours. (If you're wondering why there are quotes around the words "we", it's because it is a running joke in our marriage. Jim will ask, "When are WE going to...?", or "Did WE make the travel plans?" I ever so nicely pointed out years ago that "we" generally means ME. Jim smiled in his sheepish way, admitting nothing, but also not denying it. Now every time he asks if "we" took care of something, there is that sheepish grin).
When "we" finally got around to having Dylan tested for allergies, we learned that sure enough, he is allergic to cats. Suddenly it wasn't just a good idea to get rid of the cat - it was imperative. I sent out an email to everyone I know, including the 50 members of the Mom's Club I belong to. No one wanted her. I called the no kill shelter - full. I put an ad on Craigslist - no takers. A friend of a friend seemed interested, but she is going to Florida in a few weeks and didn't know what she'd do with the cat while she was gone. I've been waiting this past week to hear what she decided.
Saturday we went out, and were gone all day. When we were leaving, I said, "Jim, the door (between the basement and the garage) is open". He shut it and we left. Saturday night we got home late. Around 11pm, when I remembered the sheets were still in the dryer downstairs, I also realized the cat is missing. It was too late to do anything about it, and I figured the cat probably went over to our neighbor's, who sometimes feeds it, and that she brought it in.
Yesterday we had plans to take Dylan to Jim's mom's in the afternoon, while we had a date. Then, the 3 of us went out to dinner, and grocery shopping. When we got home, around 7:30, I went over to the neighbor's house. Now I have to back up.
Sometime this past spring, I was outside trimming our trees when a lady yelled to me from the sidewalk, where she was walking her dog. "Is that your cat?", she inquired. I walked over and told her the stray's story. She explained that she sometimes fed the cat, and casually said, "If you need someone to bring her in this winter, let me know". I didn't think much of it... until recently, when I was kicking myself for not getting her name, or what house she lived in. Finally, one day about a week ago, I saw someone who I thought might be her walking her dog. I watched her out my window to see which house she went in.
So, when I walked over last night, I had no idea if it was even the right house. Talk about awkward. An Asian boy answered the door, and I stood there having this conversation in my head... Do I say "Is your mom here?"... He could be adopted...Is this the right house?...Why didn't I pay attention to her name? I'm such an idiot! Out loud I started stammering, "Uh...I'm looking for...uh..my cat...and I think...uh...". Thank God the lady came to the door at that moment, and remembered me.
She told me she hasn't seen the cat, and I told her the whole story about finding out Dylan is allergic. She interrupted me to say, "Oh, I would love to have the cat! The kids who come for piano lessons (that explains that) love her, and she is such a sweet cat". She told me there is another lady in the neighborhood who feeds her, (no wonder she is so fat), and gave me her number. I called and left what had to be a strange sounding message on her machine. Then I called my parents to explain the situation to them, in case they get any calls while I'm at work today. When I mentioned the second name, my dad said, "That's the lady who talkts to Dylan and I when we go for walks".
She called shortly after that. She was confused about who I was, until I said, "You talk to my dad and my son, Dylan, when they walk around the neighborhood". "OH! Dylan! You're Dylan's mom?! He's my buddy!", she gushed, and I had to laugh. More neighbors know my 3 year old social butterfly than me!
She also hasn't seen the cat, but I suddenly felt like I was in a Desperate Housewives episode. "Well, so and so has 3 cats, and she would take her in if she saw her. I'll call her and call you right back". So, after a bunch of phone calls, I have the neighborhood looking for the cat, and my name and phone number being passed around. I finally have a home for the cat, and no cat, and I am worried sick about a cat I never wanted in the first place.
I'm sure there is a lesson in all this. Maybe it's that I need to listen more. Or that casual encounters might be more important than you think. Or maybe, the lesson is that I should ignore the next bright idea that "we" have.
(I am really hoping this story has a Part II, and that Part II has a happy ending).
If you read this post, you know that the stray had kittens before "we" ever got around to having it spayed. When "we" found homes for the two kittens, "we" also tried to find a home for the stray. No friends or family wanted her, and the no kill shelters were full every time I called, so eventually "we" just quit trying and accepted that she would be ours. (If you're wondering why there are quotes around the words "we", it's because it is a running joke in our marriage. Jim will ask, "When are WE going to...?", or "Did WE make the travel plans?" I ever so nicely pointed out years ago that "we" generally means ME. Jim smiled in his sheepish way, admitting nothing, but also not denying it. Now every time he asks if "we" took care of something, there is that sheepish grin).
When "we" finally got around to having Dylan tested for allergies, we learned that sure enough, he is allergic to cats. Suddenly it wasn't just a good idea to get rid of the cat - it was imperative. I sent out an email to everyone I know, including the 50 members of the Mom's Club I belong to. No one wanted her. I called the no kill shelter - full. I put an ad on Craigslist - no takers. A friend of a friend seemed interested, but she is going to Florida in a few weeks and didn't know what she'd do with the cat while she was gone. I've been waiting this past week to hear what she decided.
Saturday we went out, and were gone all day. When we were leaving, I said, "Jim, the door (between the basement and the garage) is open". He shut it and we left. Saturday night we got home late. Around 11pm, when I remembered the sheets were still in the dryer downstairs, I also realized the cat is missing. It was too late to do anything about it, and I figured the cat probably went over to our neighbor's, who sometimes feeds it, and that she brought it in.
Yesterday we had plans to take Dylan to Jim's mom's in the afternoon, while we had a date. Then, the 3 of us went out to dinner, and grocery shopping. When we got home, around 7:30, I went over to the neighbor's house. Now I have to back up.
Sometime this past spring, I was outside trimming our trees when a lady yelled to me from the sidewalk, where she was walking her dog. "Is that your cat?", she inquired. I walked over and told her the stray's story. She explained that she sometimes fed the cat, and casually said, "If you need someone to bring her in this winter, let me know". I didn't think much of it... until recently, when I was kicking myself for not getting her name, or what house she lived in. Finally, one day about a week ago, I saw someone who I thought might be her walking her dog. I watched her out my window to see which house she went in.
So, when I walked over last night, I had no idea if it was even the right house. Talk about awkward. An Asian boy answered the door, and I stood there having this conversation in my head... Do I say "Is your mom here?"... He could be adopted...Is this the right house?...Why didn't I pay attention to her name? I'm such an idiot! Out loud I started stammering, "Uh...I'm looking for...uh..my cat...and I think...uh...". Thank God the lady came to the door at that moment, and remembered me.
She told me she hasn't seen the cat, and I told her the whole story about finding out Dylan is allergic. She interrupted me to say, "Oh, I would love to have the cat! The kids who come for piano lessons (that explains that) love her, and she is such a sweet cat". She told me there is another lady in the neighborhood who feeds her, (no wonder she is so fat), and gave me her number. I called and left what had to be a strange sounding message on her machine. Then I called my parents to explain the situation to them, in case they get any calls while I'm at work today. When I mentioned the second name, my dad said, "That's the lady who talkts to Dylan and I when we go for walks".
She called shortly after that. She was confused about who I was, until I said, "You talk to my dad and my son, Dylan, when they walk around the neighborhood". "OH! Dylan! You're Dylan's mom?! He's my buddy!", she gushed, and I had to laugh. More neighbors know my 3 year old social butterfly than me!
She also hasn't seen the cat, but I suddenly felt like I was in a Desperate Housewives episode. "Well, so and so has 3 cats, and she would take her in if she saw her. I'll call her and call you right back". So, after a bunch of phone calls, I have the neighborhood looking for the cat, and my name and phone number being passed around. I finally have a home for the cat, and no cat, and I am worried sick about a cat I never wanted in the first place.
I'm sure there is a lesson in all this. Maybe it's that I need to listen more. Or that casual encounters might be more important than you think. Or maybe, the lesson is that I should ignore the next bright idea that "we" have.
(I am really hoping this story has a Part II, and that Part II has a happy ending).
Sunday, June 29, 2008
We Must Move Soon Because I Don't Want To Be On The Ten'O Clock News
So, people keep asking me, "Did you move into your new house yet?" The answer is still no, unfortunately, and when I say unfortunately, I mean "When am I finally going to escape this place, WHEN?!?" Or, maybe something a little more frantic and desperate.
Have you heard the expression "She was so mad she was spitting nails"? That is an expression, isn't it? Well, if it isn't, I'm making it up, because I totally felt that way this morning. Let me once again explain the horror that is our current neighborhood. On one side, we have The Clampetts. They have so many people coming in and out of there, it is like a half way house. The back yard looks like the Walmart toy section threw up, and the front of the house looks like an episode of "Flip That House", before they do the flip. The mailbox is sitting sideways on a step, and the porch often looks like a garage sale is going on. We got their mail by mistake once, and I took it over and just started laughing. The storm door was missing the window part on the top, so they just opened the main door and stuck their hand through the storm door hole to grab the mail out of my hands. The owner's daughter moved in for a while, and brought her druggy boyfriend with her, and we are convinced that he is the one who broke into our house a while back. The daughter was probably the lookout.
On the other side of us, we have a lovely couple. The man has never spoken to us, except to yell at my dad , (who was nice enough to be doing some yard work for us), for trimming what he claims is his bush. The woman informed me shortly after we moved in that the people who owned the house before us stole "those flowers" out of her yard! When Jim and I were trying to get pregnant, for 2 loooonnnggg years, and she asked me "When are you two gonna have a baby?", I answered, "We are trying to have one". Her reply was "Trying? (Snort) We never had to try!" I invited her in for lemonade and we've been best buds ever since. Ahem. The worst part is their dog. When the dog is outside, it barks nonstop. He barks when someone goes by on the road, he barks when he hears us trying to enjoy our back deck, he barks when the wind blows. He does.not.stop. It turns my normally laid back husband into a crazy person mumbling about creative plans for the dog's untimely demise.
I have managed to remain fairly calm about all of this, until this morning. This morning our front door was open so Dylan could look out the storm door at the "Meow". I saw something go past the door out of the corner of my eye. I figured it was one of the handfuls of cats who have heard that my husband rescued the "Meow", and is mooching her food when we aren't looking. Then, I saw them. In the past few weeks, The Clampetts, have acquired a new "puppy" to go along with their other dog whose breed I'm unsure of. The "puppy" is an already large German Shepherd. The other dog and the "puppy" were on our front deck. I was mad immediately. I went to the door to chase the dogs back into their own yard, when they started barking and growling at me, IN MY OWN HOUSE. I went screaming to Jim, "JIM! THE NEIGHBOR'S DOGS ARE ON OUR DECK BARKING AT ME! WHAT IF I WAS OUT THERE WITH DYLAN? IT'S A GERMAN SHEPHERD, FOR GOD'S SAKE, AND THEY DON'T KEEP IT CHAINED! I'M GOING TO FREAK OUT!"
My normally laid back husband's face turned 3 shades of red, and he chased the dogs into their yard, and told the owner, "This cannot happen again. We have a little boy over here". His reply - "Oh, yea, I guess I better get a chain". My normally laid back husband then went to our shed, grabbed a baseball bat, brought it into the kitchen and informed me that I was to use this on the dogs if they ever came near Dylan. Like I said, "Papa Bear".
Don't worry, we were at the new house working all day today. Nothing like a few (insert not nice word of your choice here) neighbors to light a fire under one's butt.
Have you heard the expression "She was so mad she was spitting nails"? That is an expression, isn't it? Well, if it isn't, I'm making it up, because I totally felt that way this morning. Let me once again explain the horror that is our current neighborhood. On one side, we have The Clampetts. They have so many people coming in and out of there, it is like a half way house. The back yard looks like the Walmart toy section threw up, and the front of the house looks like an episode of "Flip That House", before they do the flip. The mailbox is sitting sideways on a step, and the porch often looks like a garage sale is going on. We got their mail by mistake once, and I took it over and just started laughing. The storm door was missing the window part on the top, so they just opened the main door and stuck their hand through the storm door hole to grab the mail out of my hands. The owner's daughter moved in for a while, and brought her druggy boyfriend with her, and we are convinced that he is the one who broke into our house a while back. The daughter was probably the lookout.
On the other side of us, we have a lovely couple. The man has never spoken to us, except to yell at my dad , (who was nice enough to be doing some yard work for us), for trimming what he claims is his bush. The woman informed me shortly after we moved in that the people who owned the house before us stole "those flowers" out of her yard! When Jim and I were trying to get pregnant, for 2 loooonnnggg years, and she asked me "When are you two gonna have a baby?", I answered, "We are trying to have one". Her reply was "Trying? (Snort) We never had to try!" I invited her in for lemonade and we've been best buds ever since. Ahem. The worst part is their dog. When the dog is outside, it barks nonstop. He barks when someone goes by on the road, he barks when he hears us trying to enjoy our back deck, he barks when the wind blows. He does.not.stop. It turns my normally laid back husband into a crazy person mumbling about creative plans for the dog's untimely demise.
I have managed to remain fairly calm about all of this, until this morning. This morning our front door was open so Dylan could look out the storm door at the "Meow". I saw something go past the door out of the corner of my eye. I figured it was one of the handfuls of cats who have heard that my husband rescued the "Meow", and is mooching her food when we aren't looking. Then, I saw them. In the past few weeks, The Clampetts, have acquired a new "puppy" to go along with their other dog whose breed I'm unsure of. The "puppy" is an already large German Shepherd. The other dog and the "puppy" were on our front deck. I was mad immediately. I went to the door to chase the dogs back into their own yard, when they started barking and growling at me, IN MY OWN HOUSE. I went screaming to Jim, "JIM! THE NEIGHBOR'S DOGS ARE ON OUR DECK BARKING AT ME! WHAT IF I WAS OUT THERE WITH DYLAN? IT'S A GERMAN SHEPHERD, FOR GOD'S SAKE, AND THEY DON'T KEEP IT CHAINED! I'M GOING TO FREAK OUT!"
My normally laid back husband's face turned 3 shades of red, and he chased the dogs into their yard, and told the owner, "This cannot happen again. We have a little boy over here". His reply - "Oh, yea, I guess I better get a chain". My normally laid back husband then went to our shed, grabbed a baseball bat, brought it into the kitchen and informed me that I was to use this on the dogs if they ever came near Dylan. Like I said, "Papa Bear".
Don't worry, we were at the new house working all day today. Nothing like a few (insert not nice word of your choice here) neighbors to light a fire under one's butt.
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