But Enough About Me, Let’s Talk About Me
Happy Monday!!!
This Monday is already so much better than the last. This was my Facebook status: Put 22 year old cat down, snot cried on vet, hugged Mom, ate cake.
One of those days that starts with a negative catalyst, like holding a family pet as she takes her last breath and feeling serious guilt, and the day simply can’t recover. Especially when you only took a few bites of the cake and didn’t take the whole pan because you didn’t want to add “selfish and gluttonous” on top of guilty. Anyway, I had to put my favorite animal in the world to sleep. Celie (name that book/movie!) lived 22 long years, and the last few were not kind to her. Or my mom, who the cat lived with. And I literally prayed, “Um, God, can the cat just take a nap and not wake up?” But…after praying this for a couple of years, I had to accept it was not gonna happen.
I’ve mentioned this a million times, but I was not born with an adequate amount of people mercy. But when it comes to animals, even the sight of a dead skunk on the side of the road can bum me out for hours. It’s out of control. And don’t even get me started on those ASCPA ads on TV and the Internet with Sarah M. singing. HATE THAT!!! UGH. Go away. Forever.
So yeah, I got Celie before I was old enough to drive, when computers took up entire rooms, before email existed, and prior to Michael Jackson becoming Caucasian. Someone left a message on Facebook and commented it was hard to lose a pet that had been with you as a kid, teen, and adult. It’s so true. And sometimes childhood can be a little crazy, and a girl just needs a pet–for loyalty and security. And Celie would sit on my desk by the hour as I read my Seventeen magazines did my homework. She had some dog tendencies and did some cool things. But mostly, she was just mine. And stuck by for 22 years. I bought my house 8 years ago, and the cat freaked out. Would not have it. She literally went psycho. Disappeared for a week, while I put up “Have You Seen My Schizo Cat?” posters and drove down streets every night, trolling for her. She showed up finally. She was on my back porch, ragged and torn up, looking at me like, “Are you ready to give up yet?” And so I did. And my mom graciously and kindly took her. Where she was fine. Content. The diva.
When I got her as a kid, she disappeared once then a well. I bawled for a week straight. As in threw myself on the floor and threw a fit. More signs. More trolling the neighborhood. I think family even got involved in that. We don’t mess around with lost pets. Then at the end of the week, we got a call. We had sold our camper trailer, and the new owners wanted to know if we had a cat. She had traveled about 25 minutes down the road in our trailer. In the septic pipes. And hidden out for a week before making an appearance.
So last week kinda sucked. But my vet was kind and sent me a card letting me know I did the right thing. Don’t you hate it when the right thing feels icky? But I will say if you’re ever in the same position and deciding whether to stay in with the animal or not, I highly recommend staying with them. It literally takes two seconds. Very quiet and peaceful. (Um, for them. Me? I brought a box of Kleenex, some gum, and a large tea from McDonalds. I like to be prepared.) It has been a few years of weird animal situations for me, as this is the FOURTH cat I’ve put down in 8 years. My students last year would randomly joke that a pet living with me was a death sentence. (And then I’d fail the student…) But once you pass off the animal, there’s really only seconds left, so if you ever have to do this, just stay in there. It’s not the horrible, drawn-out situation you think it’s going to be. And then I came home to Miller, the yakking cat who now howls at the door every minute he’s awake. And I prayed, “Um, God, can the cat just take a nap and not wake up?”
We always had pets growing up.
I think this cat was called Frisky. I had nothing to do with the naming, thus the lack of originality. But behind us is the old swing set I would “paint” with mud. Those who know me well…well, this must be where the paint obsession hobby was born. This is the cat that ran away and was found somewhere. Um, dead. So my mom and grandfather got the poor thing and buried him. Only to have Frisky show up back home a few days later. Very much alive.
Here’s Itty Bitty Kitty, also not named by me.
I guess I’d push him around in my Holly Hobby stroller, complete with a nice harvest gold bathroom mat and a pillow that went to my brother’s chair. Sure wasn’t gonna use mine. Might get it dirty. Look how much that cat is enjoying his ride. Can’t even look at me. “If I squeeze my eyes shut real hard, she’ll go away.” I think this is the pet that also got the “honor” of riding in the basket on the front of my banana-seated bicycle. I was not a good driver. And that’s relevant to his general well being.
Here’s Itty Bitty Kitty again. Sitting on the dutch door of my playhouse.
This looks really cozy–he looks comfy. Until I’d forget about him, go inside to do something else, and IBK would have to spend the night (or two) in the playhouse. My bedroom window faced the playhouse window, and I’d usually glance out the next day or so and see this cat in the playhouse window–pleading for his life with his wide, panicked eyes. I’m happy to report the playhouse saw no fatalities.
This is my friend Breanne and me with some kitties en route to my dad’s.
Kids, if you split your time between two homes/parents, I highly recommend guilting both parents into pets. My dad let me keep these guys at his house for a while. What happened to them eventually is a little sketchy. As in resembling fiction. Seems I’m not the only story teller in the family…They “decided” to live with another family? They’re “happy” in a barn somewhere? Whatever! But they were entertaining in a place that seriously bored me. In the country. With nothing to do. It was at my dad’s that, for lack of anything else to do, I did typing lessons on the computer. For hours and hours. Even now, my students will hear me type and look up. “You type so fast.” And I always smile and think, “Oh, if you only knew how I got these skills. Dude, I had no cable.” And before you get impressed, my speed is great, but my accuracy is not. I have the same problem with knife throwing.
Here we have Whooper and Buffy.
I named Buffy. This is a great example of why I hadn’t been allowed to name our animals before. Not too much later, I would get a baby calf–Buttercup. Yeah. I know.
In this picture, I would like to point out my keen fashion savvy. Heels with socks. Lovely! What a visionary. Because that trend has yet to surface, but when it does, I will have proof I boldly wore it first. These two cats ran away, and I’m pretty sure it was the heels/Smurfette sweats combo that they just couldn’t live with.
Okay, enough about cats. But if anyone wants one who is slightly mentally retarded and never shuts up, please let me know. He says he wants to live with you.
Stay tuned later in the week for a book giveaway and where I ditch all the drab thoughts.
JEN
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15 Comments so far
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I’m so sorry about Cellie! We only had pets when I was too young to remember, but I feel your pain:(
And wait, what is wrong with the name Buffy?! You were totally foreshadowing. Joss Whedon ripped off your cat’s name! (If I were you, I’d demand royalties.)
Finally, just the opening note of every Sarah Machlachlan (just like I’ve never taken the time to listen to a full song of hers, save the ASPCA one, I’ve also never taken the time to learn how to spell her name) song depresses me.
I always had cats growing up too. My parents were afraid a dog would swallow me (as I was uber-tiny from day one), and I liked sweet, cuddly-type animals. I had a cat for eight years that died when I was in college. My dad drove to school to take me out for dinner, let me cry, etc. That same year a little kitten showed up on my parent’s porch. I named him Hawthorne and loved him so much. He was the most adorable, hilarious cat ever. Super lazy. Like everything he did took massive effort. A few years ago, Hawthorne disappeared. I put flyers in mailboxes, drove all the roads near my house calling for him, put it in the paper. He never showed up. I was devastated. It’s hard when you’ve loved an animal for so long. And animals, unlike people, never ditch you when things get awkward or sad. Please accept my very long distance hug. I think it was really brave (and sweet) of you to stay in the room.
I’m so sorry about your cat!
It seems that you went through cats like I’ve been through dogs.
I’ve had so many dogs…it seems like all the dogs we had died.
Let’s see we had one puppy that drowned (we had only had him for one day)
Then we had two dogs who got shot so I know how your feeling!
But I hope this week will be better for you
Sarah, EXACTLY!!! Just the opening note, and I’m leaping across the room for the remote. And Buffy would later be cool, wouldn’t it?
Natalie, you have an AWESOME dad. Period. And thanks for the hug. Very kind.
Thanks, Tammy. Sorry about your sad dog history! Yikes. Maybe try a gerbil?
Sorry about your cat. I was very sad when my Mom told me Catsby (I was reading The Great Gatsby when we got him) died a couple of years ago. He was around 20, and since Dad refused to call him by his proper name, he thought his name was Tom. He’ll always be Catsby to me, though. I can’t believe I’m old enough to have read Gatsby over 20 years ago.
I completely agree with you. I’m known as “Dark Heart” because people stuff almost never makes me sad, but as soon as those ASPCA commercials come on, I grab my dog and bawl. And probably squeeze her too tight, cause then she always hides from me for a little while. But also, I had a dog all growing up who died while I was in college and sometimes I still feel guilty for leaving her to go to college. So I completely understand. Sorry about your cat. If you need a shoulder in Colorado to cry on…
Im soooo sorry about your kitty!! i had no idea! must have missed that facebookery….im sorry!
i had a kitty, Stanley (stanley cup…hockey? my cat naming skills right there) since i was like 11, who went through all the emotional girl hormoney teenage years with me. he was such a trooper. we have pictures of him curled up in bed with me, he slept just like me, one arm under him, one out into nothingness, head on pillow. when we moved a year and a half ago he freaked out and disappeared, never found him. mortified! for months! my husband now makes jokes that hes famous, sees him in all the commercials and movies and stuff. he gets spit in his dinner…;)
your kitty is happy now though, and shes probably grateful to you, her wonderful person who took good care of her and loved her so much. so dont worry. she still loves you too.
and ASPCA commercials must be stopped. i cant watch them, i cry. still have a kitten up for grabs too btw…hint hint nudge nudge.
I am so sorry about your life long friends Jenny! That sounds really cheesy but it’s true. at least you have you have your other cat. Does he even qualify as a cat though? Just asking.
I had the same Smurfette sweatsuit, minus the heels and socks, of course. (I never have been a fashion icon.) I’m sorry to hear about your kitty–but I’m glad this week is going better for you.
Oh my, I have tears in my eyes after reading this post…I am so sorry to hear about Cellie. I missed anything you put up on Facebook about this. I am a cat person too – I have two, Pepper who is 15 and Mr. K who is…well I don’t know exactly, I think 7 or 8? I had to chuckle at your story about the cats who were “decided” to live with someone else. That’s rather like how we acquired Mr. K…he liked us better than his owners across the street, and when they moved they let us keep him!
Anyway, I could so relate to all of the emotions you described…the cats are my kids, and thank God my parents agreed to keep them b/c my current lease doesn’t allow pets. Lately I have seen Pepper looking old for really the first time, you know? He still moves well and eats, etc., but he’s one skinny kitty! And I know at 15 he probably doesn’t have 15 more years in him. So me being me I freak out about “the end” now when there’s really no point (well I can at least partly blame hormones they were out of control – HA!). But thanks for the perspective about staying with them – I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know!
Sorry, didn’t mean for this comment to turn into some sort of therapy session for me, LOL!! Just know I can so relate to everything you’re saying. *hugs*
Shauna, I think Catsby is one of the greatest names I’ve ever heard. It sounds like something PBS would write for a kids show. Like that dog who wore a Sherlock Holmes outfit.
Kristy, the ASPCA ads are awful. I’d send them a check NOT to run the ads.
Colene, that story made me laugh. Reminded me of the cat who blew up the bank on Sweet Home Alabama.
Lauren, the only comfort about the other cat would be if you provided him with a nice, sound proof home. Away from me.
Heather, I LOVED that outfit when I was a kid. It was pink AND smurfy!
Ruth, I had a horrible incident by NOT staying in with the cat that went to kibble heaven last year. UGH. And all would’ve been avoided if I had just gone in. Literally two seconds. Just bring a strong drink (tea!) and a box of Kleenex. It’s not this long, drawn out thing like I thought it would be. My large drink and super sized pack of Kleenex were for the half hour or so I thought I’d be sitting there.
Colene, Stanley is a great name too. Almost as good as Buffy.
hi hi jenny!
i go on your blog regularly but have never actually commented. i find your a hilarious person =). But the reason for my post is that in reference to your ‘sock and heels’ trend, i think i’ve seen a magazine with a picture of fergie or someone doing it.
stephanie xoxo
Thanks so much, Stephanie. You are too kind. And thanks for letting me know it’s time to bring my heels and socks back out.
I am smoking crack again before I write this (lol, that was the funniest comment ever about one of my reviews) and I just wanted to say that those are really cute pics. Thanks for sharing some childhood photos.