Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Family of Six

This was my first weekend as a mother of four. It had a rough start.

I was out with my mother all Friday afternoon. I came home and J was playing on the computer (a theme all weekend) and I asked him where the kitties were. He said he hadn't seen them all afternoon.

When I went to bed at 11 I still hadn't seen them. I walked around the house looking oh so casually. Trying not to panic. Trying not to imagine calling their former owner and admitting that we had lost the kitties on their first day in our house. That we were the worst parents in the world.

I did two tours of the house and found nothing. I think J could hear the stress in my voice but he still kept playing that fucking computer. I kept looking.

Still couldn't find them. Was trying not to be neurotic. I asked if we had reminded the neighbor boys that we now had cats and not to let them out. He said he was sure that they were not outside. I wasn't so sure, especially since they woke me up Friday trying to bust out the screens of our bedrooms in an elaborate Homeward Bound attempt.

The cats were not outside. They were not dead.

They were in the lining of our box spring. They had slipped in their and slept all day, make the spring look about nine years pregnant.

J tried to force them out (which I begged him not to) but it was pointless because you cannot force cats to do anything.

It didn't bother me once I knew where they were. In fact it was comforting. When the dogs came to bed the whole family was together. Even if two members where nestled underneath the bedframe like they were hiding from the Nazis during the Holocaust.

You take what you can get in this life. That is what I have learned.

They came out in the middle of the night.

The hid most of Saturday. Coming out once or twice and eventually setting up camp in my walk-in closet. It is a huge mess and apparently Big Kitty likes my rolling suitcase. I think she thinks it is her own apartment.

We began to talk about kitty sightings. Like seeing Big Foot but less frequent and more threatening. I tried to lure them out with food, especially since I was concerned that neither of them seem to be eating (their food bowl went down a bit but I think Buster ate it). On Saturday night I found Big Kitty hiding behind the garbage can in the downstairs bathroom. I tried to get her to drink some milk, she turned up her nose after a few licks. Maybe cats don't like skim?

Sunday J was still playing the fucking computer game (I am thinking about breaking the computer). I watched the Olympics and napped (because I am, say it with me, still so FUCKING TIRED). The cats camped out in the closet but went off exploring a couple of times. You could catch glimpses of them sneaking around or see the tips of their tails whip around corners.

Then, last night, Big Kitty LEAPED onto the bed. For about ten seconds. But still! VICTORY.

This morning J got up to eat toast at about five and came back to find Rooster in his spot.

Darla likes the cats, I think she sees a soulmate in Big Kitty. A mutual love of sleep and doing nothing and terrorizing the pug. Buster just looks at them sadly. I think knowing that he is moving down in the rankings.

He is still my favorite boy dog. He just isn't the baby anymore.

That is alright. He and J had taken their testosterone into the game room. And are hiding.

Just as it should be, the women are owning the rest of the house.

8:02 a.m. :: comment ::
prev :: next