Thursday, January 15, 2015

You Aren't Fit to Cat Parent

"If we get a cat, will you promise to feed it, groom it, and bust it out of jail?"

Afternoon Readers,

I'd like to start today by congratulating Andrea on winning the Minted giveaway! I really appreciate you playing along with the ridiculousness around here and wish you the best of luck with all future endeavors involving shutters and the teeny, tiny nails that keep them perilously in place. 

Pet ownership, I never wanted any part of it. I'm not a regular Cruella or anything, but anyone who knows me well, also knows I'm no Jane Goodall.

I have to feed it?

Groom it?

Not step on it?

And it's not my kid? Pass.

Don't get me wrong, animals are wonderful, but if it weren't for Husband, I probably would've left the care of pets way behind me and enjoyed a hair-free couch my entire adult life. The day he brought Salvador Perez home, I made it clear the cat could stay, but also that the feeding, litter box, and stopping the yowling at 3am duties were all his. His alone.

And that's why, of course, the cat has now become permanently tied to me and sole beneficiary in the event of my demise.

But let's put this in reverse for a second...

Amidst the hubbub that was last year's contender for most stressful move ever, we lost the cat. I lost the cat. The cat was lost by accident. As the last boxes were unloaded, and the race to beat the coming snow ensued, my haste to grab the kennel out of the van went something like this:

Me: The kennel just broke! The cat's running away!
Husband: I forgot to tell you about the special way to pick it up!
Me: Why?!
Husband: I don't know!
Me: Come back, cat! You don't know where you are!
Husband: Salvador!
Me: Pretend you're a dog and turn around!

It was a maelstrom of exclamation points, but there was nothing to be done. Much like Kevin Costner's career, Sal ran off in to the night, never to be seen again. Sadly, we turned back to the house, quietly dreading telling the children of their parents' ineptitude to transport the family pet five miles down the highway. Acceptance set in. A week went by. The cat was gone forever.

"They found the cat."

I set down my thrice reheated cup of coffee and stared. "What?"

Husband set down his phone. "That was animal control. They picked up Sal and want us to come get him. Umm... "

"Umm, what?"

"It's gonna cost some money to get him out."

"We need bail money for the cat? I thought we were saving that for the kids."

Responsibility tugged at my insides, and even though I felt the checkbook flinch when I grabbed it, I loaded all the children in the van and headed out on a freezing cold Monday to bust the cat out. He was just a little cat, after all. How much could it be to hold him for a day or two?

"That'll be seventy-five dollars."

I choked on my own spit. "Are you sure it's not eight dollars? What'd you feed him in here, prime rib?"

"Well, it would've been three hundred and fifty to re-adopt him, so it's actually a deal. Also, we're going to need your driver's license and all current personal information, so we can find you if he runs away again."

The children looked at me expectantly. "Fine. But if he runs away again, we're relocating."

"What was that?"


Grudgingly I handed over the money and loaded the cat back in the van for a second try. "Please don't run away again. That was all the grocery money. I can feed the kids ramen this week, but any longer than that, and it might stunt their growth."

All was well with the world. Upon arrival, Sal curled up in his new spot and became acquainted with all the various spots he'd spend the rest of his life napping on. Paying to get him back had been worth it because we could now move on. Sort of.

*Ring Ring*

"Mrs. Kellerman?"


"This is Officer Jones. We need to talk about your cat." 

To be continued...

Until Next Time, Readers!

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