Archive for August, 2009

Sigh. . .

Friday, August 28th, 2009

Background: we are house sitting for one of our colleagues this week – they have 2 dogs (only one of which is home right now), 2 cats (one indoor, one mostly outdoor), and a saltwater aquarium.

So there I was, soundly sleeping during the nice, cool, non-humid, 6:00am hour when I was suddenly awakened by a disgusting farting noise. I jumped out of bed, not really knowing what was going on, but figuring one of the animals was getting sick. To my dismay, Tonks (indoor girl kitty), was just finishing a nice poop on the hallway carpet, after which she jumped about 4 feet straight into the air and tore off down the stairs (for those of you who have cats, this requires no explanation – but some cats, after they finish “going,” will just take off on a romp through the house, clearly feeling lighter and faster).

Great start to the morning indeed. As my sleepy haze was clearing (much more quickly and rudely than I would have liked, I might add), it dawned on me that, for the past two days, the litterbox has been clean. Up until that moment, I didn’t see a problem – hooray for not scooping poop; however, now, as I’m groggily wiping poop off the carpet before the dog can eat it, I realize the empty box is definitely NOT a good thing. She must be going somewhere?!?! On a trek through the house I go, looking for the kitty toilet. Nope, not in the office, nowhere in the bedroom, living room looks clean. Hmm. Bathroom. Bingo. A pile of poop on one rug, and a bunch of little pee spots on the other (WHITE) rug. Awesome.

He who must not be named. . .

Monday, August 24th, 2009

A couple of weeks ago, on a Thursday, Jesse and I travelled to downtown Falmouth in order to sign our purchase and sale agreement for the house we are buying (our lawyer’s office is downtown). On the way back to the car, we wandered through the local farmer’s market to see if anything peaked our interest. We were still vagabonds at that time, so we didn’t really want to buy any food – mostly we just wanted to see what was down there. Jesse, in a rare and wonderful display of romance, asked if I would like some potted flowers for my desk at work, since it’s quite bare still (all of our stuff is STILL in storage, remember). I thought that was really sweet, so off we went in search of a small, shade-tolerant plant.

I found a nice little stand with a very amiable woman working at it. She had some suggestions, and this little guy seemed to be perfect:


We drove back to work, and as I was getting out of the truck, I was thanking Jesse and telling him what a cute basket it was. I brushed one of the leaves back from the handle of the basket and was astonished and horrified at what I saw. A swastika was carved into the handle, plain as day. What the heck was I going to do with that??? I couldn’t keep that at work (nor would I want to keep it at all); I’d surely get fired if anyone saw that. That said, of course I had to show it to a few select people, just for the shock value. With each explanation of the story, none of us could bring ourselves to say what was on the basket, so we decided to name it Voldermort. Well anyway, it was near the end of the day, and we didn’t have time to bring it back to the farmer’s market, so I decided to hold onto it until the following week when I would return it. Until then, it would have to travel with us for the weekend – certainly couldn’t leave it at work and risk it falling into the wrong hands.

Well, in the meantime, a whole string of bad things happened. We had to go get the cats at Jesse’s parents’ house in CT and drive them to NH to stay with my sister – a crappy weekend of driving and vomiting cats was surely in store for us! Well, once we got to CT got all settled in with our bags and various other “stuff,” I sunk down onto the couch to hang out with my pal Noche (one our cats, for those that don’t know). He immediately curled up on my lap. Sadie (better known as Satan), Jesse’s parents’ dog, decided it was play time, and kept coming over and nipping at Noche. In an effort to distract her, Mr. B. called her up on the recliner with him. They were wrestling and playing in the chair, when Sadie decided she had had enough. She scrambled to jump down off the chair, but her right paw slipped down between the footrest and the recliner. Momentum was not on her side. With her paw stuck in the chair, her body went end over end and she flipped on her back onto the floor. Sadie’s pained screeches evoked a panic in all of us as she thrashed around on the floor trying to get free. Despite his best efforts, every time Mr. B. tried to get up off the recliner to help her, the footrest started to close, causing more pain to the dog. Sadie, in a crazed effort to try to get free, flipped over onto her stomach, which meant her leg was upside down and twisted backwards, her shoulder bulging at the joint. At this point, she lost all control of herself and peed on the floor. Jesse decided to take action, and he ran over and picked her up (she’s a black lab/ german shepherd cross that weight about 75 lbs.), at which point she sunk her teeth into the fleshy part of his palm and bit down hard. Rather than follow his instincts and let her go, Jesse continued to lift her to an angle where she could get her leg free. Once freed, everyone was just still for what seemed like and eternity, waiting to see if she was ok, or if something was broken. Amazingly, she was fine – nothing broken, nothing dislocated. Jesse, on the other hand, had a gaping hole in his palm, and blood was pouring from it. That was day 1 with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Coincidence? Let’s move on to day 2 and see.

The next day started like any other: wake up, eat breakfast, etc. We packed our bags and put the cats in the truck as we prepared for the 3 hour drive to NH. As predicted, about 30 minutes into the drive, Baboi lost his breakfast (and from the sheer quantity, his previous 6 meals). We pulled into the breakdown lane, cleaned him up, consoled him (he was very upset), and got back on the road. About an hour later, the warning sounds were coming from the back again! We pulled over again. A Massachusetts state cop pulled up beside us to see if we were broken down. Jesse said, “Thanks officer, but we are fine – out cat is getting sick in the back.” Well, this induced a rage in the cop. He went on a tirade about how it’s unsafe to pull over on the highway, so we shouldn’t do it unless it’s a real emergency. Some careless driver could swerve over and hit us. We don’t want to get killed over a cat. If we want to stop, get off at an exit. OK OK, buddy, we get the point. No one was arguing, and I think he might have been on speed…it took me until 5 minutes after the confrontation to figure out everything he said! Let me just say that we were pulled over in a HUGE breakdown lane, and we even pulled off the road into the grass. Even so, we understood his point and went on our way. We made our way back onto the highway, and not even a half-mile down the road, the SAME COP puts his blues on and pulls us over. . . what?! This time, we are in a skinny little breakdown lane up against a guardrail – way safer situation than we were in before. With traffic flying by us so close it was shaking the car, he comes back up to the window, and asks for Jesse’s license and registration. He goes back to his car, checks the info, and comes back and yells at us again for pulling over in a non-emergent situation. . .really buddy? Maybe he forgot that he already told us that not 2 minutes before? We surmise that he saw the Nevada plates and got nosey.

So, in two days, we had a dog bite, cat vomit, and two incidents with the law. Mind you, neither one of us has been pulled over since we’ve known each other – so to be pulled over twice in two minutes by the same cop is NOT normal. Needless to say, we returned the plant to the very mortified woman at the farmer’s market – she had no idea that was there. She gave us another one, and our Karma has been all good since then!