Jean talked about mothers on Monday. This got me to thinking that it was time I shared on the blog what was going on in my life. You see, when my father died three years ago, my mom didn't know what she was going to do. Knowing that she has always loved to travel (former Army wife), we asked her to come live with us as we live a busier lifestyle than she did back home. Because she had two more years to go before she could retire, she continued to work before finally coming to live with us last fall.
This past year has been a learning curve for all of us. (I actually have hair!) My kids left the nest to experience the world, and hubby and I were going to be alone for the first time in, well, as many years as we've had kids. We had a good six week run before Mom moved in. Before her two cats followed, joining our two cats. If I'd been a better pirate, I would have put my foot down right away and refused to allow her to bring her furry offspring into our home. But, trying to be a good daughter, we allowed her to bring her Siamese cat and rolly-polly Tabby.
Before I go on, I'm sure I don't need to tell you that my cats, Mr. Billington and Miss Daae, were not a bit pleased with this new addition to our home. We're talking feline rioting here! Cat fights. Name calling. Smacking of paws. Jealousy! In fact, I'm surprised Pussy Galore wasn't called in to take Mom's cats out.
Sadly, rolly-polly Tabby was sick. We knew this before we took him in. His kidneys were almost gone. Should have known right away that he would not make it longer than four months in our home. He passed away after a long and courageous fight at the vets. But, Mom didn't want to leave him behind because he reminded her of my dad, nor did she want to leave her Siamese. And so, we took the blighters in. Arrrr!
In order not to sicken anyone on this blog, I'll just say that this has been a great struggle and my house has turned into a battle zone. First, rolly-polly Tabby's health declined, as well as his litter habits. Second, Mr. Billington decided (after 13 1/2 years of being the best cat EVER) to mimick the sick cat. (I leave it to you to imagine what that means and I'm still battling this on a daily basis.) The Siamese couldn't, and sometimes still can't, get along with anyone. To prove her superiority over all felinedom, she ate the carpet off the bottom of our stairs.
To remedy the Siamese's decidedly annoying habit of tearing up my house, Mom put aluminum foil across the bottom of the stairs. Well, I will say that, though that has kept her cat from devouring my carpet, anyone who enters my house will think we are the family from the movie, Signs. Yes, indeedie. Now all we need are a few half-filled glasses of water sitting haphazardly around the house. Hubby just needs to get a baseball bat at the ready so I can yell, "Swing away!" at a convenient time. (Thank God we don't have a cornfield!)
Recently someone shut the Siamese upstairs. What did she do? She tore the carpet up by the door, trying to get out. Hubby said, "Why don't we just give the cats the house?" (We cannot fix the damage until the cats are gone.)
When everyone was home for my FIL's funeral, #4 kept saying she heard a cat in the shower. A cat in the shower? That's impossible. Then the wheels started turning in my head and I thought, how in the world would that Siamese figure out how to get in my walls? After hours of searching, we discovered the Siamese in the water heater closest. She'd been there for over 24 hours. Someone had shut her up there. Sadly, she'd been without food or water for over a day. We just thought she'd hidden from our grandsons.
It's apparent that Siamese cat has never heard curiosity killed the cat. By my calculations, she's four lives down, with five to go, providing she hadn't used up any before moving into my home.
If you can make lemonade from lemons, at times like these, a more versatile beverage comes to mind, rum. And it better not be gone!
Signs. Glasses half-full. Bat at the ready. Swing away!
What have your pets done for you lately?