The Good, The Bad, &The Guilt

Today has been…all three.

The Good: I volunteered earlier this week to do a “Parade of Homes” this morning for the local Builders Association, taking tickets, welcoming people to one of the houses on the tour, for a 4-hour stint. 

I and another of my coworkers were paired together, and we had fun, chatting with the folks that showed up, even though it was cold, sitting at a table in the house’s open garage (a brisk 46 degrees, with a nice breeze dancing in from one corner occasionally, thanks!). We had a pretty steady stream of people from the opening time of 10, and were supposed to be relieved by our replacement at 1pm.

The Bad: Our replacement never showed.

About 1:45, we finally got ahold of the organizer of the volunteers, & let her know that we couldn’t stay anymore (my coworker had a child that wasn’t feeling well, & I had other plans as well for my afternoon) , & she was very gracious & thankful that we’d even stayed that long.

So, we packed it in, & left.

When I got home, I started working on my kitchen again. I’m preparing to re-paint, & need to scrub walls, so went & bought a cheap sponge mop at the dollar store, along with a degreaser spray for the walls. 

Then, I decided it was time to clean my ferret, Vinnie’s cage, & give him a bath.

Bath given, I turned him loose on the floor, & started cleaning his cage. He usually runs around like a Tasmanian devil possessed after a bath while I clean his cage. 

Not today.

The Guilt: While replacing the newspapers at the bottom of his cage, after scrubbing, I heard a strange noise in the kitchen.  It sounded like he’d gotten stuck somewhere, & was scrabbling, trying to get out.

He wasn’t stuck.

He was by the cat’s water bucket.

And his back legs were not working.

His back feet were twitching, like he was trying to make them work…but he couldn’t get his hindquarters up off the floor to work like normal.

And I hadn’t noticed when it set him on the floor in the towel.

He was fine just yesterday, what happened?!? 

How could I not notice there was something wrong?

Did he fall somewhere in his cage?

He hasn’t been out of his cage for the last couple of days, and it’s a large, 3-level cage that stands 6 feet tall. He could’ve gotten stuck in the wire-works, somewhere….

And I didn’t see it.

Ferrets are relatively quiet animals, not making much noise, Vinnie quieter than most, he hardly even chatters when he’s excited.

But, how did I not notice this??

Many domesticated ferrets die of cancer as well…

Is this it??

I feel horrible, guilty, and sad.

I know, that if there’s no visible improvement by the beginning of the week, that I’ll have to take him to the vet.

I’m pretty positive that there won’t be improvement. Things like this usually don’t work that way.

You can figure out the logical conclusion.

And that makes this guilt even worse.

Excuse me, I have children to call…

It’s That Time Again

The full moon is right around the corner.

Know how I know?

Stuff keeps going missing.

Little things, like my fingernail clipper, and my ear buds for my phone, a small ziploc baggie of hematite rings, & a stretchy headband I wear when I work out.

Now, I know I’ll find these things sooner or later, tucked under a chair, or peeking out from under one of the blankets on my bed, or maybe when I move the couch to mop this weekend.

And how do I know this?

Take a close look…

Those are teeth marks on that emery board.

Every month, right around the full moon, this happens.

The culprit?

Yes, Sally Jane. You. Don’t try to pawn me off with that “Who me?” look.




OnlySon’s cat.
Irritating evening yowl-sounder.
Dog teaser.
Early morning tail-in-face flicker.
Catnip addict.
And when she visits the cat box….
The repository of dead, rotted souls.

Ah, gawd. The stench.

Eats the exact same food as my other cat, and yet… something inside this feline has died, and revisits us every time she evacuates her bowels.

Errrrrgh….*choke, gag*


It is a little after 5 AM. 

I’ve been sitting here, staring into my laptop’s screen for a little over an hour now, trying to catch up on my blog-friends’ lives (which I’ve sadly fallen horribly far behind on in the last few weeks).  My new kitten, Sally, is curled up on my lap, after finally giving up trying to get me to play with her instead of the strange, flickering box I seem to be obsessed with.  YoungerDaughter and OnlySon are, of course, sound asleep and know nothing of my late-night “sleepus interruptus”.

I blame the strawberry lemonade.

Last night, after YoungerDaughter came home from work, we decided it was too freaking hot to breathe, and didn’t want to fire up the Flaming Box of Hades (the oven, to you non-pagans), but we were famished and needed sustenance.  McD’s it is! 

Now that the boil order has finally been lifted for most of our fair city, the fast-food joints here in town can get back to serving liquid refreshment that doesn’t come in a can or sealed bottle. 

Ahhhhh, the blessed Frozen Strawberry Lemonade…..

How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways:

1.  That I’m willing to endure the immediate BRAINFREEZE I get when consuming this delectable dessert-in-a-cup, because I can’t stop myself from diving head-first into the sweet and sour AWESOMENESS that is this slushy heaven.  It’s worth the momentary cessation of brain functions to get that first hit of cold, summery, fruitjuice love.

2.  That I’m also willing to endure the ultimate, incapacitating HEARTBURN.  That which woke me up at 4 AM today, and still holds me tightly in its grip.  No, it’s not angina or a stroke.  I had some strawberry lemonade, ok?  Yes, I know it causes me pain, but that which does not kill us…. right?  Right.  Totally worth it.

And the warmth of my 7-week old Patchwork Sally on my lap is the perfect cure. 

Shhh, this is my sleepy face…



Yup.  Totally worth it.

Maybe I should try to catch a couple more winks before the sun actually hits the horizon.

Mmmm… or maybe just a couple more blogs.

True/False or Total Bull

And…… the winner is…… Thoughts!

The #2 story is the true one.

The farm we lived on when I was a kid, was about 50 feet from a main highway, and we had a lot of roadkill, including many of the cats we kept to keep down the vermin population in the barn.

One of the cats had kittens just a couple of days before getting killed on our highway, and Boots (the black and white one) and Rocky (the one getting nibbled) were the only 2 that survived until I could find them in the barn.  I proceeded to bring them in the house, and against my parents’ wishes, stated that I was going to make them live.  My folks thought I was crazy, that there was no way I’d be able to take care of 2 newborn kittens, all by myself, and they were not going to help me.  They were pretty sure the kittens would be too frail to make it.

But, I talked my mom into taking me to the local farm-supply store, where I was lucky enough to find 2 tiny baby-doll bottles that had rubber nipples on them, and I proceeded to care for the boys, keeping them in a cardboard box, next to the radiator in my room.  Luckily, it was summer-time, so I could care for them throughout the day, and every night, I got up and fed and washed them off, just like their mama would have done.

The boys lived, becoming monster tom-cats.  Boots was more of a home-body, and was kind of the “Grand-Poobah” on the farm, often found babysitting the new kittens.  He didn’t care whether they were his offspring or not, he just cared that they cuddled up next to him and kept him warm in the sunshine.

Rocky was a roamer, but he always returned to the farm for visits.  Rocky and Boots got along perfectly, as though they knew that they were brothers, and didn’t have to fight over anything.  Strange for tom-cats to get along like that, but they did.

The rest of the stories?  Totally made up, with help from YoungerDaughter.  I did used to try trick-riding on my horse, but I was too chicken to stand up without something to hang on to; I did watch a lot of Star Trek, but never wore dresses if I could help it as a kid; and I was on TV in college, but for the Concordia Christmas Concert on PBS, not for any dating show. 

So, there you go.  A little truth, a lot of false, and a HUGE load of BULL… er… cats.

Have a great weekend, my friends!