Crazy Cat Lady

The weather is supposed to get cold tomorrow, probably until March.  To most people this means it’s time to get out the warm clothes and start thinking about Christmas.  To me it means only one thing…the cats are going to want to start coming in the house again. 

Wow, that makes me sound like a crazy cat lady.  I have been called crazy before.  I have been called a lady before.  Heck, back in my younger, more athletic days I was even known for my cat-like quickness and agility.  Ok, I might be exaggerating a bit on that one.  However, in the state basketball tournament the fans for one team called me Dumbo every time I touched the ball.  I never really figured out what they meant by that so I just assumed they were comparing my jumping abilities to Dumbo and his ability to fly.  They couldn’t possibly have been referring to the size of my ears, even though I have since had ear reduction surgery.  I also couldn’t figure out why my own school would chant that at me.  I’m not sure what that has to do with me being a crazy cat lady so I’ll move on.  So I may have been called each of those names at one point or another in my life but never all bunched together in one accusation.

We have two cats that we have had for years.  As we live next to a large, mice infested field, the cats are usually content to stay outside most of the time, occasionally offering a great sacrifice of a mouse head or entire corpse on the front porch in thanksgiving for bringing them to such a paradisiacal mouse haven (I hope you’ll overlook this tremendous run-on sentence as you are so impressed at my awesome use of the word “paradisiacal.”  Admit it, you were impressed.)  Anyway, when it gets cold the cats like to come in the house.  This wouldn’t be much of a problem for me except for one thing, and this is totally disgusting….every once in a while they’ll find a blanket to urinate on.  I swear to you, not even the rotting remains of the two deer carcasses I buried under the cover of darkness in the field next to my house (yes, two detectives did pay me a visit- dang paranoid neighbors who were suspicious of what I was really burying) could smell worse than cat pee.    

Even the bulldog we used to have didn’t smell that bad.  I remember when we were house training her I’d wake up in the morning from a dream about steak.  I would honestly arise from my slumber wondering why it smelled meaty in our house.  I’d wake up thinking, “yum, something smells delicious” until I’d realize the smell was just a fresh, steaming land mine left by our mentally ill bulldog. 

I guess I better get to the point.  We sold the bulldog months ago, but does anyone need a couple of cats to keep them warm this winter?