This weekend was the second retreat. Friday night, we were sitting around telling stories. One lady was a total cat person. I tried to tell my tale in a way that would convey that while I don’t agree with her lifestyle choice, it is hers to make and I know God doesn’t hold it against her.
I had a cat I liked at one time, but I have come to the place that it is more problematic to me to keep a box of dirt in my house for an animal to poop in, than can be outweighed by the enjoyment of the relationship. As I would be the one who “cleans the dirt”, we have no indoor cat. Officially, Mickey has been asked if he would take 100% ownership of the dirt box. He looked into my soul and knew that I wouldn’t scoop another turd. He said, “You heard your mom; no cat.”
The second summer we were married, a family asked us to house sit. They had a cat. Mimi. It seems that before we moved in, Mimi had disappeared one night and come back the next morning with a broken leg. Hmmm?
She cried constantly, ate like a fiend and when the day’s food was gone, she would frequently CLIMB ON THE COUNTERS and eat whatever she could find. A loaf of whole wheat bread? Raisin bran? She was not selective about the ways she made me mad enough to black out.
She had a splint on the leg, which made it really difficult for her to navigate the litter box which had a lid with a door.
One day, I was alone in the house; making my bed. I heard the tinkling sound of someone using the toilet in the master bath. Blogger doesn’t even support a description of the thoughts that went through my head. I took the, “Hold it right there, Freak!” approach and stomped over to confront the intruder.
The cat was using the toilet. Fighting the splint had her looking for solutions to her problem. My near cardiac event was an unexpected downside to that plan.
Another day, Mickey picked her up to gently place her on the ground and drew back in alarm, “SHE’S PREGNANT!!!”
“No, she isn’t. Mickey, people get their cats fixed.” A simple call to the veterinarian disabused me of this simple minded error. A call to the
stupid family, who didn’t get their cat fixed, rendered an accusation of our altered male cat(cats can’t perform in vitro on other cats. Science has proved it.). They apparently didn’t remember the Virgin Mimi’s Wild Night Out.
I wasn’t a doula yet, but Mimi didn’t know that. When I got up that day, labor had begun. She followed me everywhere, preferring to be stepped on to being alone. I figured these things would naturally take their course and went about my day–out of the house from 10 until 4, and dinner with friends. I knew she was still contracting, but I had no idea that she was waiting. At ll p.m., I sat down to watch TV. She laid down in front of me. With the first contraction, I SAW A SPLASH!!! We moved her to the place we had prepared (in the closet, like the Bible says…). In moments, there was another cat in the house.
Since she was underway, I thought there would be no stopping her. Silly me. When I got up around 2:00, not another cat had been born, so there I sat, doing the doula job. For a cat. I didn’t like.
A week or so later, I fell asleep in the afternoon
because I was laying on the bed in the dark when I woke up, there was a kitten in the corner of the back of my knees, where my leg turns into my foot, and where my leg bends at the hip. Mimi was found enjoying a leisurely meal. I was now doing the post partum doula job. For a cat. Who clearly loved me.
Cats never do what’s expected of them. Dogs, on the other hand…
Please consider adopting your next pet, already spayed or neutered, from a rescue organization. In addition, to your local animal control affiliates, there are also breed specific rescue groups.