I’m completely in love with our new kitten. Everyone is in love with our new kitten, including Lonny, AKA Mr. Disapproving Hardass.
I know this because he has his Daddy Ears on. It’s what happens when you have a baby and suddenly you become freakishly in tune with your child’s every sound and movement. A hitch in breathing can rouse you from a deep sleep.
To be fair to the pet parents out there, the same thing happens when you get a new kitten or puppy.
Last night Lonny was all, “Don’t roll over!” in the middle of the night, “Kitsy is right next to you,” or, “I just heard her jump down from Scrotus’s bunk. I better go check on her.” He loves her. I know it.
I realize that she reminds me of a wonderful cat I had years ago. Toto was given to me by a friend who had something ridiculous like eight cats and needed to rehome some of them. Toto was a tiny, black longhair and as sweet as could be.
I told the boys about Toto and they wanted to know what became of her. What becomes of all cats, of course.
But it was an interesting story and one of my personal favorites. Toto died of cancer and each morning when she left the house, I wondered if I would ever see her again. Cats have the tendency to go off and disappear to die.
One night she did not come home by the time I went to bed. I was dreaming away, my usual anxiety fare of being in a bathroom where the doors wouldn’t close and it was filthy and gross suddenly she walked into my dream. She looked right at me.
It was a dead stop and I suddenly felt very lucid. I said in the dream, “Toto. What are you doing here?” and then I snapped awake and heard her take her last breath. I went to her and held her in my arms as she died.
I’m neither religious or spiritual. This experience with my little cat was the one and only mystical experience I’ve ever had, one that made me wonder if there is a spirit that exists outside of the body.
I could explain it away, that my subconscious heard her labored breath in my sleep and triggered my anxiety about her impending death and wove her into my dreamscape. But I’d like to believe that she and I had a connection, that she came to get me so I could hold her in her last moments.
It was one of the most beautiful experiences I’ve ever had.
Well, hell. Now that I’m writing it out and getting kind of teary, it’s no wonder that the boys completely lost it. Worse than when we read the Most Depressing Children’s Book Ever. I held them both as they cried and cried and cried for a cat they never knew.
I felt like a total asshole.
The only thing I could do was pile on a bunch of tiny animals and start reading to them from The Wee Free Men, perhaps the most fun book I’ve read to my kids in a while. If you have boys or girls, they will love it.
In other news, we are watching Tabby’s chihuahua again while she’s in Hawaii. She vowed to stay off of the computer so I should feel at liberty to talk as much shit about her dog as I like.
He recovered from his snake bite and now his head is back to normal. I take full credit.
Time to cut the crap.
Today is a big one. I take full responsibility for this disaster. My neighbors were showing me around their house and they have the biggest beanbag ever and I was like, “Oooh! Beanbag!”
I think they are fun and I have very fond memories of my best friend having a beanbag in her living room. What could be better for my house?
They sensed my excitement and were all, “Do you want it? It’s yours!” I was like, “Awesome.”
I walked home and wasn’t really thinking about it when they showed staggering under its weight five seconds later. It took three people to move it.
When someone is really eager to give you something, it’s for a reason.
That sucker is HUGE. Like, GINORMOUS. Surely there is someone out there who wants a beanbag that can double as a king sized bed. I’m putting it on FREECYCLE. It comes with a cover and matching bolsters.