Monday, December 19, 2011
Don't You Just Hate It When...
Don't you just hate it when it's just a few days before the holidays, and you celebrate both Christmas and Hanukkah, and they arrive at the same time this year so that you have double the prep work in the same short amount of time, and you have the house to clean because your monster-in-law is coming to stay
forever for a few days, and you still have gifts to buy and gifts to wrap and cookies to bake and THEN your friend (who's also your neighbor) asks you to watch her cats while her family is on vacation for a week, so now you've got to remember to feed cats every day on top of everything else, and when you go to their house on the first day, you find that someone has locked the dead bolt, which always sticks, and you can't get in the front door, so you have to skulk around the perimeter of the house trying various doors to see which one you may be able to get into, and finally your frozen fingers manage to unlock a door so you can go in and feed the cats, which you do, but you also notice that one of them has crapped all over the kitchen floor as well as the carpet and rug, which is really disgusting, and you start to wonder if this friendship is really worth cleaning up cat caca, but then you suddenly get a sick feeling in your stomach that you've only seen one of the two cats come in to eat thus far, and you slink around the corner toward the front door and stop suddenly because on the floor is a furry, grey cat shaped lump and it is not moving, and you know this is not good, so you walk over hoping that the cat is sleeping (you know it's not sleeping) or that it is sick and that you can bring it to the vet (you also know that it is not sick) and you see that its mouth is open and so are its eyes and it is quite rigid, so now you have to decide what to do with the neighbor's dead cat, which, by the way, is bigger and heavier than your dogs, and you really don't know the protocol for this particular situation, so you find a towel and wrap up the cat and place it in the garage, where you hope the temperature will be cold enough to keep the cat from rotting until the neighbors get home in a few days because you really don't want to put it in their freezer and make a catsicle, and now you have to figure out whether to contact your friend who you know will be really, really, really upset about the cat and ruin her vacation or wait until she's almost home to tell her, and you don't even know if you can contact her because she's overseas, so you try to text her husband and then set about cleaning up the cat crap all over the house and trying to forget the image of a fat, rigor mortised, glassy eyed, dead cat that is now permanently burned into your brain. Yeah, I hate that too.