skip to main |
skip to sidebar
We are definitely a cat family. At one point we had four cats living with us. It proved to be way too much work and it has been much easier being a two cat family. Hubby and I have both volunteered at animal shelters and we've always said we will only add adult cats to our family. Kittens don't have trouble finding homes. Adult cats are often overlooked, even though the right cat can be the perfect addition to a household. Last week, though, our no-kitten policy flew out the window.
Hubby's parents own a storage unit business. About a week ago Hubby helped his dad with maintenance work on some of the units. It involved a loud crane and cement blocks, but I won't bore you with the details. Four days later a customer asked my in-laws if they were missing a cat. No, their two cats were accounted for. The customer said he kept hearing a cat while he was in his unit and it sounded like the cat was under the neighboring unit. After hours of digging and moving cement blocks, Hubby and his parents finally found the source of the noise... two kittens had been trapped under the unit. They were dirty, scared, dehydrated and hurt. Both kittens had sores on their heads from trying to dig out, plus they dug their nails to the quick.
The day after their rescue they received a clean bill of health from the vet. One is a boy, the other a girl. The boy is a feisty little thing and is quickly learning how to play. His sister is a little timid, but is slowly coming around. And, long story short, this is Murray:
Yes, Murray is a kitten and yes, Murray will soon be joining our household. My daughters are very excited about the prospect of having a new furry friend. We are excited about the playfulness he's about to bring to our house. He goes against our "no kitten policy," but we couldn't bring ourselves to not bring him home. I feel better knowing his rescue story and knowing we didn't overlook an adult cat to add him to our house. Murray is definitely ready to come home with us, but his sister is still healing and not ready to be separated. In another week or so, though, Murray will become a permanent part of our family! I hope our two other cats are ready!
Last Wednesday I dropped off my daughters at school, went to the grocery store and came home. Thank goodness I was paying attention, because in our driveway, directly in my path was this:
I pulled the car over, got her out of the road and proceeded to unload groceries. Then I took a picture and sent it to Hubby. My initial thought was to take her down the street where there's a big field and a reservoir. I became distracted and didn't follow through. Thank goodness I didn't take her there.
Hubby emailed me from work and told me to put the turtle in our backyard until he could figure out what to do with her. We didn't want her to get hit by a car or taken in by the neighbor girl who all but abuses her two dogs. Hubby did an Internet search and found a local reptile rescue group. Upon seeing the picture, the woman in charge told him the turtle is not native to our area and, if left to her own defenses, would die in the elements and/or spread diseases to the "wild" turtles. Her speculation was that the turtle was either an escaped or abandoned pet. She and Hubby started corresponding to figure out how the turtle could end up in the hands of the rescue group.
In the meantime, when my daughters came home from school I told them what had happened and let them see the turtle. For whatever reason, they decided to name her Clementine. (Internet research leads us to believe the turtle is female).
The rescue group wanted Hubby to drop off Clementine on Saturday. He told the woman a) it was kind of a long drive and b) he would have to bring the girls since I would be working. She told him they don't allow kids in the facility. Ummm, ok. So he asked her if there was a volunteer in our area who could pick up Clementine since she's, in my opinion, a dire case, meaning she's not native and can't just be turned loose. The woman informed Hubby they don't "typically" do that so could he still drive nearly an hour on Saturday to drop off the turtle.
We contemplated keeping Clementine. Our girls really wanted to keep her. Every morning before school they made me go in the backyard to check on her. The other day they watched her eat lettuce and berries. They were delighted when she pooped in the box we used for her feeding. Unfortunately, she requires both an indoor and outdoor habitat, one that we don't have the time or money to maintain. As much as it would be fun to have a turtle, she's just too much work.
Fortunately, Hubby found a second local reptile rescue group. This one has volunteers who are willing to drive anywhere in the state for a reptile. (I think that's because they deal mainly with snakes and such that people took in as pets and no longer want). The leader of the group is located near Hubby's work. So this morning, Clementine is on her way to work with Hubby to picked up by this group. She'll spend 90 days in their care while they determine if she's healthy enough to be adopted out. Hopefully after that time period she'll find a family with the time and energy to provide her a good home.
This year for Christmas Santa brought my girls an aquarium. Actually, while they were excited at the prospect of being fish owners, the gift was really for Mommy and Daddy. We have always entertained the idea of owning fish and would some day like to have a large tank of tropical fish. We decided it's best to start small. So we now have an aquarium fit for a few princesses. It's pink. It has pink rocks. Did I mention we bought a pink castle for the fish to swim in and out of?
Last week Hubby got the aquarium ready. Then on Sunday we ventured to the pet store to buy two goldfish. Did you know goldfish aren't always gold in color? I didn't know that either until Sunday.
Anyway, our aquarium can accommodate two to three goldfish. I bring up this point because the pet store employee emphasized this fact, even though the tanks at the store had 30 or more fish crammed in them and aren't much bigger than our tank.
The pet store employee was clearly exasperated with us. We didn't want him putting just any fish in a bag and sending us home. No, for our 13 cents a fish we wanted the ones we picked out. First into the bag was Mo. He's gold in color and has a black stripe down his back, sort of like a mohawk, hence the name. Next came Rocky. He was black in color, very pretty. He was a slippery sucker and kept dodging the net. Apparently the worker gave up because when we were in the car we noticed Rocky was suddenly silver. Oh well. He was ours and that's all that mattered.
When we made it through the first night with no dead fish, Hubby and patted ourselves on the back. We're good fish owners! Unfortunately, when the girls and I went to feed the fish this morning, poor Rocky had passed. Believe it or not, he found his way into the castle and used that as his final resting place.
The girls and I were slightly disappointed, but not overly upset. It had only been 2 1/2 days. Yesterday Hubby pointed out that Rocky never used his left fin. We're guessing he was injured and dying before we ever brought him home. My explanation to the girls was that Rocky knew he only had a few days left and really wanted to get out of that crammed fish tank at the store. I like to think he enjoyed a few days of having room to move in the princess tank.
As for the title of my post? Well, the store has a 14 day guarantee on fish, so tomorrow Hubby will be heading there to bring home Dorothy.
Why does it seem every child at some point in his or her life asks for a dog? I remember wanting a dog growing up. My parents eventually got two... when I was in my 20's and no longer living with them. Interesting because they always told me a dog would bother their allergies. Hmmmmmm....
Now, here I am, faced with four girls who want a puppy. Not a dog, a puppy. It doesn't help that pretty much all of our neighbors have a dog (or two). They feel like I'm depriving them by not giving them a puppy.
It doesn't matter that we have three cats. At least one of the cats would be delighted if the girls played with him every single day... and rubbed his belly often... and kept his food dish full. Unfortunately, he gets a little excited and will accidentally scratch them when he's having too much fun, so the girls aren't as excited about having a cat as they should be. (This winter, though, they'll be glad to have cats when the boys are keeping their feet warm!)
Still, they want a puppy. They want to take him on a walk. They want to play fetch with him. Of course, when I asked who will clean up the poo in the back yard, the answer is "You" (as in me!) No thanks. They want all the fun, but don't understand the work.
I'm slowly convincing them a dog isn't the best pet for our family. Tortilla is starting to realize she doesn't want a puppy. Instead, she wants a hamster. Ummmmm... no.
I remember the day I met Elwood. Hubby moved in to our townhouse while I was at work. I was dreading coming home because I was not excited about living with cats. Cats? Yuck. I opened the door from our garage and before I could turn on the light I heard it. "Row-row." (You had to know Elwood to appreciate his unique meow. It still makes me smile when I think about it). I turned on the light. There was the orangest, fluffiest furball I had ever seen. His pushed in persian face made it look like he was scowling, but his eyese were wide and curious... as though he was saying "what are you doing in my house???"
Elwood and I quickly developed an understanding. I understood if I had food it was my job to offer him a taste. If I was on the couch I understood I needed to move over if he wanted to sit there, too. I understood if he wanted to sleep on my feet I was not to complain. He understood I would do all of these things for him. For someone so reluctant to become a cat owner, I was certainly a sucker.
It was hard to be mad at Elwood, even when he was being disobedient. One time we had a chocolate brownie on the counter and one of the cats chewed through the wrapper. We couldn't prove it was Elwood... at least not right away. Later in the day I picked him up and panicked, showing Hubby the blood on Elwood's paw. How in the world had he cut himself? Was he hurt? It was chocolate... he was busted.
Elwood loved to play. He would do back flips as he chased string. He would snort when he ran around the house. Wad up a piece of paper and he could play for hours. A paper sack? Heaven to Elwood.
When we brought our daughters home from the hospital, all our cats were skeptical. We had four cats, did we really need to ruin the dynamics with four babies? Elwood was the first to warm to the girls. He would sniff their heads, check out their room, sleep in their infant carriers... yet he always knew their beds were off limits. When a relative's cat batted Sue-Sue on the head, Elwood came running and gave that cat a good bat on the head, too. When the girls would come home from preschool, Elwood was always by the door waiting for Roo to pet him and give him a big hug.
Even when he became sick, Elwood was a source of entertainment. On the night I brought him home from a tooth extraction, he spied a rabbit outside and took off through an open door, drugged up and running through the dark. Fortunately he was doped up enough that he didn't get far.
Putting Elwood out of his misery was the humane thing to do, but painful nonetheless. He wasn't going to bounce back this time... but it has been a hard few days. At three-and-a-half years old, the girls don't really understand what happened. They know Elwood's not coming home, but they don't understand why. I tried to put it in simple terms: Elwood was too sick for the doctor to help him. He's not coming home, but we can look at pictures and tell stories about him. They still ask where he is, but their questions are starting to diminish.
Elwood was more than a cat... he was part of our family and he will be missed.
I'll confess I hated cats until I met Elwood and Hootie. They were part of a package deal with Hubby. Until I met those two, the only exposure I had to cats was my grandparents' cat. I can't remember her name but every time we visited she would pee in our suitcase and chew holes in our socks. She didn't like us and I didn't like her.
Elwood "claimed" me as soon as he met me. Hootie was another story. He is one jealous guy. He destroyed some of my things in protest and I've never let him forget about it. Now the cat accepts me and we have a decent relationship. He knows who buys the cat food so he pretends to like me.
Two cats were plenty... but then along came Sebastian. Hubby and I are suckers for animals in distress. Hubby found Sebastian on our porch during a heat wave. He gave Sebastian some water and made a friend for life. Sebastian simply decided to stay put and he's been a great pet. He is incredibly skittish around the girls, much to their disappointment. Whenever Tortilla sees Sebastian she runs toward him, hoping to pet him. She's getting better at realizing he's timid.
Three cats... sounds like a good number. Then came Morton. He had been hit by a car and our vet worked on him for free. Then the vet needed to find him a home and decided we looked like pushovers. She was right. He's the only cat we own that has his front claws, but it has never been an issue. He doesn't scratch the girls and that's what counts... but he will thump them on the head if they pester him.
Before our daughters were born Hubby and I both volunteered at an animal shelter. I can't tell you the number of times we wanted to bring home "just one more." Fortunately we had enough sense to realize five is too many. Four is probably too many for most people but I can't picture our house without any of these guys.
Pets are a huge responsibility, especially when kids are in the picture. My cats were pretty neglected for the first year of my daughters' lives. Oh, they always had food and water as well as a clean cat box, but they didn't receive a whole lot of attention. Fortunately my daughters are now at an age where they take an active role in caring for our cats. They help put out the food. They ALWAYS tell me when a cat has coughed up a hairball. They play with the cats and even give them hugs. It's pretty cute to see. Unfortunately they've been asking when we're going to buy a puppy....
