One of our neighbors is shooting off so many fireworks that I can’t tell if it’s the 4th of July or the artillery barrage the Federal troops fired at General Pickett’s division during Pickett’s charge (which was 161 years ago, yesterday).
So much noise. The cats are handling it well, but we had to close the windows out of fear that the booms would freak them out.
I don’t think any pet is a bad pet if you love it. Some would be more… challenging than others, but in the interest of discussion let’s start with the good pet while I think of an answer for a bad pet.
You don’t have to scroll far into the history of this blog to figure out my answer. Cats. Cats are the best because they take work. There’s none of that unconditional love shit with cats. You have to earn their love and respect. You have to convince them that you’re their humans. It’s possible that they might think that we are their pets rather than the other way around, but that’s okay with me.
Okay… what animals make bad pets… besides none, of course. I was going to say something prone to serious violence like an alligator with anger management issues, or a rabid tiger. Instead I am going to borrow my answer from an early South Park episode.
An elephant would suck as a pet. As Kyle said on South Park, its poop would be bigger than your couch. If it tried to cuddle up against you it would squash you to jelly. That doesn’t sound like a terribly pleasant pet/human interaction at all! Yeah, an elephant as a pet would kind of suck.
I’m up and ready to punch into work. I filled the cat’s food and water bowls. I changed the battery in the door lock. I took out the trash, twice. I woke Harry up to tell him his blood sugar was low (his glucose monitor alarm wasn’t loud enough to wake him). I vacuumed up the latest water in the cellar. I emptied and restarted the dehumidifier. I started a load of laundry. I showered.
Now that it’s time to start work I think I need a nap. Still have to make the bed before my 10:00 meeting.
Happy Thursday, folks.
Someone seems pleased with the blanket that just came out of the dryer. You are welcome, Ms Kitty.
What do you call it when your family includes step children whose time is split equally with another family? Is that a blended family? I think that’s the proper term. Last night we had a loss in our blended family.
My wife has two kids. Two fantastic kids. Two amazing kids. They spend half of their time with us, and half of their time with their father and step mother. I might have mentioned that a few hundred million times, but I am just clearing it up for all the new people.
In our house it’s me and my wife, the two kids, and a cat. We had some fish there for a while, but they didn’t make it. We also had a mouse for a couple of days, but he wasn’t exactly an invited guest.
At their father’s house they have two dogs and three cats. One of those cats had to be put down yesterday. Squeaky Cat, a Siamese who lived a whopping 14 years. When the kids were dropped off at our house last night they weren’t exactly clear on the details as they were still pretty upset, but it sounds like Squeaky Cat’s kidneys were failing and she was suffering.
Both kids were very brave and very strong. They watched the procedure and told us what happened. They were both clearly upset by the loss, but they were handling it great. Right up until bed time, that is.
My step son went to bed first. He was in the bathroom brushing his teeth and I happened to be walking by and noticed that he was crying. Hugs were given, tears were shed, I told him he should focus on his happiest memories and he said that Squeaky loved jumping into boxes, especially laundry baskets. Is there anything cuter than a cat in a laundry basket? At one point he said one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard. He said, “I’m going to make a wish to Santa to bring Squeaky back.” Eventually he was able to pull it together and he went to sleep. I am very proud of how he has handled the situation. He’s a fantastic kid.
30 minutes after my step son went to bed, my step daughter’s bed time came along. She just walked up to me with tears beginning to well up in her eyes and leaned on me. Again, hugs were given, tears were shed. I asked her what her favorite memories of Squeaky Cat were and she also said Squeaky jumping into boxes. Again, is there anything cuter? She too got herself together and was about to go to sleep when she started crying again and asked, “Whose going to feed her?” It was just gut wrenching, the poor thing. Still, I am very proud of the way she handled the situation. She too is a fantastic kid.
I’ve said it a millions times before, but I am the luckiest man alive. The obvious reason is the way my wife and her kids have let me be a part of their family. I couldn’t ask for anything more. Even when it’s sad and difficult like last night was, I still could not imagine being luckier.
Rest in peace, Squeaky Cat.
Inside the Red Head's Head 