In anticipation of the big event that shall go unspoken so as not to jinx it, my household came to terms with the fact that we needed to find a new home for both of our furry feline demon beasts. Jim came to terms with this far easier than Payton and myself, but we came around. I decided, after cleaning kitty poopies off of my couch for the 900th time that I was pretty much done. Payton was told that she could have kitties or a pool - but not both - so, being the incredibly intelligent and rational 6 year old that she is, she decided that the pool was the way to go. Jim and I may go to Hell for asking a child to choose between her pet and a swimming pool, but you can just add that to the list of things that will send us to the Inferno (speeding, drinking, claiming family and friends dinners as business expenses and, oh yea, living in sin). So sue us.
Much debate ensued over when and where the demons were going to go. One day last week, I came home to poop on the couch and puke on the floor, and I immediately insisted that the bastards go straight to the shelter. Surprisingly enough, Jim saved them from this fate - he came up with the *brilliant* idea of posting "Free To A Good Home" fliers at our yard sale. For 5 hours on Saturday morning I baked my butt off in the lovely heatwave that we're having IN OCTOBER and I got not one taker for the cats. I got rid of half of our worldly possessions, but couldn't even give the cats away. So I went back at it Sunday morning - the old furniture and junk was drug back out to the driveway and the cat fliers were remerchandised. At 11:30 Sunday morning, a gift from God arrived at my house in the form of a rusted-out old Honda full of the cutest little white-trash family that you've ever seen. Mommy, daddy and two adorably disheveled little girls piled out. They dug through our old CDs (Ace of Base, anyone?), picked through our used and abused kid toys, and stopped dead in their tracks at the cat fliers.
Being the eternal saleswoman, I went in for the kill. *Insert sad, awful story about how we can't take the dear, sweet creatures with us when we go. You can have the cats, carriers, food AND litter - it's all yours for the low, low, bargain-basement price of FREE!* They bit...hook, line and sinker. It took 25 minutes and the assistance of my dear friend Mary Fox to get the buggers boxed up in their cat carriers. Have you ever tried to wrestle a 30 pound, black he-demon with full claws into a way-too-small cat carrier? I have. I fought the cat, and I won. So out the door went Emma Sue and M.J. And the Mrs. and her two little girls had the biggest smiles painted on their faces ever.
So it's been three days since the big orange and the fat black cat have left our lives. How are we holding up, you ask? Well let me just tell you...
Life AC (after cats) is blissful. The funky, musty smell that had invaded our house roughly three weeks ago? Located and destroyed. It was the cat's wet food. How gross is that? Can I tell you how nice it is to walk into the laundry room and NOT get a face full of nasty wet cat food smell or a foot full of cat litter stuck on like tiny little stabby pebbles? I'll never have to buy cat litter again. I'll never have to stand in the pet aisle at Publix and debate the merits of the seafood multipack vs the poultry multipack of gross wet cat food that made me throw up in my mouth just a little bit every morning. I cleaned all of the cat-related coupons out of my coupon holder. I'll never have to scoop poop out of a box again. I'll never have to wonder if there is kitty poopies waiting for me in my bed or on my couch. It's really quite wonderful. Payton had a brief moment, brought on by sheer exhaustion, but when we reminded her that there's a swimming pool in her very near future, she got over it. Deuce the big goofy yellow lab is adjusting in the same manner that he adjusts to everything. As the happiest creature on the planet, not much phases him. He has a new cow toy that's become his latest obsession, so he could care less that he doesn't have cats to chew on.
The only issue that I'm having is that every time I hear a car door or a knock at the front door, I'm paralyzed with fear and all I can hear is that awful song from my childhood that went: "The cat came back...we thought he was a goner, but the cat came back!" We can not possibly move out fast enough. I don't think I'll ever own another cat ever, ever again.
