Sunday, August 14, 2005
dream day, nightmare night...so sorry.
Today...
...the day was perfect. The night was a disaster.
Do you want me to go into it right now? Ok. I will. The good part, the daytime, will be expressed in more detail tomorrow, along with happy pictures. Ok? I don't want to come across as being a whiny bitch...I promise. This post might make me look like a complete loser. Trust me, some parts, I feel badly enough about.
John and I were gone all day today. We were driving home at 10:30 p.m. when John got a call on his cell phone. It was the wife of the man who we had bought our house from. For those of you who do not know the whole story, they bought our old farmhouse, we bought their new remodeled house in town. It was almost a trade. Well, out at our old house, we had a cat named Smokey. A few months before the big move, Smokey had kittens. There were three. Whitey, Blackie, and Brownie. Blackie disappeared soon after the kittens began walking around. :( The other two sat there in the grass, looking cute as ever. We weren't sure if we wanted to put up with kittens IN our new house (every single one of our animals at our old house lived exclusively outdoors).
So, after the closing and moving, the kittens and Smokey remained out at the farmhouse. We made arrangements to take them out to John's parents farm because the new owners did not want cats out there. Well, last weekend, we took Brownie into our arms. This made the wife of the purchaser very happy. So happy, she became very concerned about Whitey and when we would take her. John and I knew we only wanted one cat, so, as soon as Whitey was captured, she would go with her mommy out to the other farm.
And at 10:30 at night, tonight, we get the call. (NOTE: If it wasn't for this, I would have been in bed two hours ago).
She has Whitey in a box out at their house. They will meet us in FIVE minutes at our new house to give us the kitten. And look at our patio that had leaked the other day during a huge downpour... yeah...
So, we get to our house, and there are lights on all over the place. The dog is crying outside, people are in our house, and I find myself so uncomfortable, so pissed off about the rudeness, that I wait in the car. John goes inside and later tells me that the white cat is running around IN OUR HOUSE. They let the cat LOOSE in OUR house. After they go, we conjure up Whitey and go out to our old house. We grab Smokey and out to John's parents house we go, at 11:00 at night.
When we get home, Brownie is super playful and is climbing all over the curtains. John and I watch a slideshow of our hundreds of pictures from today on the TV while Brownie plays and goes into the basement. We had even cleaned her litter box today, seeings how she uses it so well.
OR FUCKING NOT. Let me backtrack. Last night, John and I were brushing our teeth when we saw Brownie squating on our bathroom rug. Hmm..."Brownie? What are you doing?"
"Maybe she's just sitting funny."
"Yeah, I sure hope so..." So I bring her down to the basement, and yep, sure enough. She pee's in her litterbox. No more was thought of the matter.
So tonight, we are totally pissed off about everything else that has happened, brushing our teeth, when Brownie again is squating funny on the bathroom rug. I lift her up, and pee is dripping all over the fucking bathroom. I toss her into the bathtub because she's peeing and it's dripping down her tail and everything.
I scream out that Brownie is going out to John's parents house tomorrow. So we put her in the kennel in the garage and that is that. Of course John is like, "YOU SAID THIS WOULDN'T HAPPEN!" Meaning me wanting her so badly and then the first mess up and I want her gone.
Only it's not like that. I was very tolerant to the fact that she might have accidents. In fact, she shit on the kitchen floor her 2nd night here. I didn't do a thing. I pet her and told her she could go down to the basement any time she needed to. She knew what the litter box was for. THis bathroom rug thing, wasn't an accident. It was a habit, and I'm not going to spend any more time trying to teach her otherwise. It's impossible. She knew what the litter box was for, and 15 fucking shits inside of it prooves it.
This is my house. I have worked damn hard for it, and everything it represents...and some cat isn't going to piss all over it. I am sorry if I sound like a terrible person. But who knows how long she's been doing this and each time I step out of the shower, I step in cat piss, dampness I figure is left over from the shower before. It's sick, and I'm not going to have it in my house. I apologize to all for sounding so self-centered and uncaring. :( ¶ 12:41 AM
...the day was perfect. The night was a disaster.
Do you want me to go into it right now? Ok. I will. The good part, the daytime, will be expressed in more detail tomorrow, along with happy pictures. Ok? I don't want to come across as being a whiny bitch...I promise. This post might make me look like a complete loser. Trust me, some parts, I feel badly enough about.
John and I were gone all day today. We were driving home at 10:30 p.m. when John got a call on his cell phone. It was the wife of the man who we had bought our house from. For those of you who do not know the whole story, they bought our old farmhouse, we bought their new remodeled house in town. It was almost a trade. Well, out at our old house, we had a cat named Smokey. A few months before the big move, Smokey had kittens. There were three. Whitey, Blackie, and Brownie. Blackie disappeared soon after the kittens began walking around. :( The other two sat there in the grass, looking cute as ever. We weren't sure if we wanted to put up with kittens IN our new house (every single one of our animals at our old house lived exclusively outdoors).
So, after the closing and moving, the kittens and Smokey remained out at the farmhouse. We made arrangements to take them out to John's parents farm because the new owners did not want cats out there. Well, last weekend, we took Brownie into our arms. This made the wife of the purchaser very happy. So happy, she became very concerned about Whitey and when we would take her. John and I knew we only wanted one cat, so, as soon as Whitey was captured, she would go with her mommy out to the other farm.
And at 10:30 at night, tonight, we get the call. (NOTE: If it wasn't for this, I would have been in bed two hours ago).
She has Whitey in a box out at their house. They will meet us in FIVE minutes at our new house to give us the kitten. And look at our patio that had leaked the other day during a huge downpour... yeah...
So, we get to our house, and there are lights on all over the place. The dog is crying outside, people are in our house, and I find myself so uncomfortable, so pissed off about the rudeness, that I wait in the car. John goes inside and later tells me that the white cat is running around IN OUR HOUSE. They let the cat LOOSE in OUR house. After they go, we conjure up Whitey and go out to our old house. We grab Smokey and out to John's parents house we go, at 11:00 at night.
When we get home, Brownie is super playful and is climbing all over the curtains. John and I watch a slideshow of our hundreds of pictures from today on the TV while Brownie plays and goes into the basement. We had even cleaned her litter box today, seeings how she uses it so well.
OR FUCKING NOT. Let me backtrack. Last night, John and I were brushing our teeth when we saw Brownie squating on our bathroom rug. Hmm..."Brownie? What are you doing?"
"Maybe she's just sitting funny."
"Yeah, I sure hope so..." So I bring her down to the basement, and yep, sure enough. She pee's in her litterbox. No more was thought of the matter.
So tonight, we are totally pissed off about everything else that has happened, brushing our teeth, when Brownie again is squating funny on the bathroom rug. I lift her up, and pee is dripping all over the fucking bathroom. I toss her into the bathtub because she's peeing and it's dripping down her tail and everything.
I scream out that Brownie is going out to John's parents house tomorrow. So we put her in the kennel in the garage and that is that. Of course John is like, "YOU SAID THIS WOULDN'T HAPPEN!" Meaning me wanting her so badly and then the first mess up and I want her gone.
Only it's not like that. I was very tolerant to the fact that she might have accidents. In fact, she shit on the kitchen floor her 2nd night here. I didn't do a thing. I pet her and told her she could go down to the basement any time she needed to. She knew what the litter box was for. THis bathroom rug thing, wasn't an accident. It was a habit, and I'm not going to spend any more time trying to teach her otherwise. It's impossible. She knew what the litter box was for, and 15 fucking shits inside of it prooves it.
This is my house. I have worked damn hard for it, and everything it represents...and some cat isn't going to piss all over it. I am sorry if I sound like a terrible person. But who knows how long she's been doing this and each time I step out of the shower, I step in cat piss, dampness I figure is left over from the shower before. It's sick, and I'm not going to have it in my house. I apologize to all for sounding so self-centered and uncaring. :( ¶ 12:41 AM
