Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Cat's Out of the Bag


 Being a divorced, 50ish woman, you have to be super careful not to appear lonely or weird, when dating.  There are some things that men find appealing, and other things we need to stay away from.  For instance, taking your black lab running in the park, or joining a wine tasting club is definitely cool.  Going out and buying, let's say a ferret, probably won't go over so well, it may sound eclectic and fun, but trust me, it's weird. Showing him pictures of your peekapoo, Mitzi dressed in a rain coat, not so cool, and the one big red flag that men run from?  Cats.  This is why I hesitate to publish this post.

 Awhile back, my son said to me in passing, "Hey mom, this is weird but I thought I saw H carrying a cage to her room."  "Hmmm," I thought, "That IS weird."  When I went to investigate I found a black kitten with emerald green eyes, lying on her bed.
"What is this?" I asked.  She looked at me, eyes squinted,  like,  "What is what?" but answered,  "A kitten."
"Why is it here?"
"I wanted one."
Ohhh, okay, got it.
"But you didn't ask, and I hate cats.  They have no personality and their pee stinks."
"Well, I already have a litter box and I will keep him in my room. You won't even see him."
   
It really was adorable to watch.  She took "Jet" with her everywhere, true to her word, he stayed in her room and they were inseprable.  For three days.  Then a friend invited her to a beach house in Clearwater for a few days and she was out the door. 
"What about Jet?" I yelled as she ran out the door.
"He's fine, I left him enough food and water  till I get back.!"
SLAM

That was one year ago.  H has since acquired a boxer puppy, named Cassius Clay, and has been asked by me to go live with her dad (HA! Take that Giselle! Sooo sorry about that new berber carpeting,) after he toilet papered the inside of  my house and continues to pee right next to my pool.  Rudy, our ten year old mastiff, who smells like total ass, btw, was beside himself when Cas planted himself down on Rudy's bed as if to say "Yeah this is super comfortable.  I think I'll sleep here too."  It would be like my ex bringing Giselle home and her saying "Move over."

That being said, the now grown up cat, Jet is the center of my universe.  My life revolves around making sure he does not get out of the screened porch.  I can't leave town because my kids don't feed him right.  I have to let him out at 4 am and stay awake until 4:30 to let him back in...he likes to do his business at this time.  I don't know if I am replaying an old scenario, but if I accidentally open the front door wide enough, he runs like the wind, only to be grabbed by the tail and pulled back in, with me promising to be more attentive to his needs if he promises to stay.

I am careful not to mention Jetty when out at parties.  While people may think I am actually interested in what they are saying (chances are slim,) based on my focused look and deep thought, actually I am trying to remember if I closed the screen door tight.   Don't worry though, I think I have a handle on it.  I realize that between Jet and my many piles of People Magazines, unopened bank statements and unread Sunday papers, I am just one decaying carcass away from having my own show.


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