You can leave your hat on

I think I've scarred my child for life. Or maybe I've scarred a cat for life. Or maybe I've just scarred me for life.

I've been getting up fairly early each morning, in order to be up before TFYO so I can get a shower. Occasionally she gets up while I'm in the shower, but then she usually stays in her room with the door open, so no problem.

Yesterday was different.

I took my shower as normal, but when I was done I heard the cat meowing at the bathroom door (we have our own bathroom in the master bedroom), so, wrapped in a towel I opened the door just to make sure the cat was okay. I took a quick look around to see if TFYO was up yet. I didn't hear her, and looking down the hall, her bedroom door was still closed. Ah, peace, solitude and privacy. I took off my towel and tossed it in the basket at the foot of my bed.

It was at that moment I realized she was laying IN my bed, not saying a word, but looking at me with very big eyes. I yelled something like "GAAAAAAAAAAAH!" and almost decapitated the cat while slamming the bathroom door shut. TFYO at the same moment yelled "MOOOOMMMEEEE!" and pulled the covers over her head. Oh, Zoe is fine, by the way, she's much quicker and smarter than I am.

I peeked through a crack in the bathroom door and yelled at my child "Could you at least knock or something when you come in to let me know you're there?" I closed the door and started putting my clothes on, because thankfully I'd had the foresight to at least bring those into the bathroom with me.

A few minutes later there was a tiny knock on the bathroom door.

"Mommy, I'm here in your room. The cats and I want you to put your clothes back on now, okay?"

You've got double trouble coming down

A double post today, because I saw a story I wanted to share, and because I wanted to address some of yesterday's comments on radio stuff.

First, the radio stuff. jrh, from Turkey on Whole Wheat, was nice enough to say this: "I believe you greatly underestimate your appeal, my friend..." and it was in response to this : "If you actually knew what I looked like you might not be so quick to call." While I appreciate the compliment, dear, what I said still holds and this is why:

I will never look how people expect me to look.

It is the way radio is, but it I think it's worse for women. No matter where I've gone, no matter what jobs I've done, I always get the same reply, even from people who work in the business:

"You don't look like what I imagined."

And then it's followed by something like this (these are just a sampling of some that I've heard)

I thought you'd be taller.
I thought you'd be blond.
I pictured you as a red head.
I thought you'd be thinner (!)
I thought your hair would be longer.
I thought your hair would be shorter.
I pictured you as a brunette (when I had red hair).


Usually, they're all saying the same thing (especially if they're guys): "I pictured a six-foot tall swimsuit model wearing a bikini standing behind the microphone". I once had an intern say those very words to me. And I am none of those things.

I'm 5'6", I weigh more than 150 lbs, I wear jeans and t-shirts (not bikinis!), my butt is a little on a the ample side, and I favour Converse high top running shoes in various bizarre colours. I occasionally wear heels, but generally not to work. Not when I have to stand for fours hours. And this doesn't mean I think I'm hideous, I just don't look like Pam Anderson or whatever fantasy babe our listeners have in their head.

So I think maybe putting me on our website might be a good thing, because then it would shatter whatever preconceived notion people have of me, and I wouldn't feel like I'm disappointing our listeners every time I meet them.


Okay! Now on to this story...

Oscar the Cat is the Angel of Death. No really. There's a story about it here, although you may have already seen this somewhere else. It's a little uncanny, but I also think it's nice, especially since he's apparently not a people cat. I always liked the idea of animals working in hospice care, but then, I like animals.

And speaking of the animals, we've discovered that Chloe has an intestinal buggy. It's called Spirometra erinacei (don't read that if you're just having a meal, really). It can eventually turn into a tapeworm thing. It's actually fairly rare (our vet said he sees a case maybe once a year). How did she get it? By eating an "aquatic animal", such as a frog, or a lizard. She's going to be fine, but I'm left wondering how the hell a cat who's been in a shelter for six months could eat a frog or a lizard!

Bringing it All Back Home

Okay, that's an album title, not a song lyric, but I don't care because....

WE GOT THE CATS!

Yes, the folks at the Humane Society of Savannah-Chatham County untwisted their knickers long enough to approve us. Actually, what happened was the lower level worker brought our application to the director, who approved us on the spot. We got the call after all getting our hair cut yesterday. We were just on our way home when Ray's cell rang, and they told us we could pick up Zoe and Chloe that day. So we rushed over to the local pet supply store for everything we needed (like cat carriers, we gave ours away when Grimmy and Puck died).

And here they are:

Zoe is on the top, Chloe is on the bottom.

These pictures were taken this morning. What these pictures don't show are a couple of cats very content to take over the sofa, lounge across laps, and sleep on the bed with us. Of course, it also doesn't show them investigating every nook, cranny and closet in the house for all hours of the night, either.

They both seem pretty well adjusted. They've both already eaten, and found the litterbox. The best part is, they both have wonderfully developed and individual personalities. So, we finally did it. Now the hard part is getting TFYO to understand that the cats won't ALWAYS want to sleep on her bed!

And thanks to all of you for your kind words and encouragement over the last few days. You are all awesome and make me proud to know you.

These things are gone forever, Over a long time ago

If anyone knows the song that lyric came from, the title might make more sense. It's a Steely Dan song, if it helps. Gurnal should know it, and no Googling people!

So, this is sort of a round-up of various things, not really connected, but sort of. Er, yeah.

UPDATE : Okay, I never had this many friends in school. I'm feeling a little embarassed, because...well, because I tend to curl up into the fetal position when I'm given compliments. I've been given more awards and a wheel barrow full of compliments from my friend The Rotten Correspondent. I've said this before, but she is one of my very favourite people in blogdom.

So, she's given me a Rockin' Blogger award ( I always wanted to be a rock chick, no really!), and she's also given me a :

I've already given out two of these, and now I get one back! Must be some good blog karma going around.

And yes, I'll get around to passing these on, I swear. Once I uncurl from the fetal position under my desk. Now, back to your regularly scheduled posting.

______________________________________

First up, you may have noticed I've gleaned another award. I suddenly feel very important and egotistical. Which means y'all might not want to give me anymore of these. My head might get too big to fit in here.

This one comes from the lovely Mya over at Missing You Already. She even managed to do this while on holiday in England!

Mike from Ordinary Folk who designed the award says, "Schmoozing as defined by Dictionary.com is the ability “to converse casually, especially in order to gain an advantage or make a social connection." I think I agree with Mya that this definition makes all of us award winners sound a bit like slimy ass-kissers. She says it's really meant to be warmer, and nicer, more of a "getting-ready-to-meet-new-people" kind of thing. And since I've been given this award, I tend to agree. I think I'm supposed to pass it on to five more people, but I'm going to wait a week, just to be a pain in the ass, and because all of us seem to be winning the same awards.

On a completely unrelated note: the cats. We still haven't heard anything, and the Humane Society worker we talked to yesterday (after she dropped her snotty attitude) said she'd just love to let us adopt Zoe and Chloe, but her supervisor is a real stickler for complete forms. My husband told her that if her supervisor has an issue she can call us. It's not looking good. However, we can always adopt from another rescue group. I'd be happy to have them do a home visit if I thought it would help. I could also just go hang out in the city for half an hour and take the first cat that followed me home (and I mean the four-legged kind!).

And finally, why is it that on crayon boxes they always print "NON-TOXIC CRAYONS"? Does that mean there's someone out there actually selling toxic crayons? And if they were, does anyone think they'd tell us? I mean, would they print "GENUINE TOXIC CRAYONS" on the boxes? I could just see the advertising campaign now: 'Genuine toxic crayons, guaranteed to grow you a third eye, burn through skin, and contaminate your bloodstream, or your money back. Assuming you survive."

Right, that's enough rambling. I think I'll go polish my awards.

Singin' the blues while the lady cats cry...

Thanks to the Stray Cats for the lyric.

We've decided to look for a pet, and no, for my regular readers, it will not be a goat.





These were my two cats, Grimmy and Puck. I got them during my sophomore year in college (you do the math!), and they both passed away last year, about seven months apart. They pre-dated my husband and my child, and moved all over the damn country with me, and I miss them terribly. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to go looking for love again.

But lately, The-Four-Year-Old has been saying she misses them, too. She's been drawing lots of pictures with her and the cats, and her and animals in general. That, and the adorable pictures of Willowtree's zoo has been getting me thinking of sharing my home with animals again. So, we've been looking.

At the moment, we've been trying to decide between a dog or a cat (or multiple dogs and cats), and we've been weighing the pros and cons of each.


Pros of getting a dog:

It poops outside.
We can take it to the beach and the park.
Dogs are loyal.
It can eat the roosters keeping me awake.
It can scare away the ducks and buzzards hanging out on my lawn.
It can chase off the neighbour's chihuahua that keeps pooping in my yard.


Pros of getting a cat:

Usually quieter than a dog.
Won't kill off the grass in my yard with it's urine
Won't bug me for walk at 4 a.m.
Generally, cat poop is smaller than dog poop.
Cats have a better chance of hiding from The Four Year Old.
Won't snort guests' butt or crotch.


I've leave it y'all to come up with the cons. Alright, I'm being a little facetious. I like both dogs and cats, but we're still having a tough time deciding. TFYO is a little nervous around dogs, but I think it's just because she's only lived with cats. We also still don't have a fence around our backyard, but that hasn't stopped our neighbours who let their beasts roam at will. At the moment I'm leaning towards a dog, maybe one on the smaller side (beagle or basset hound-ish).

Either way, our new family member will be coming from the local shelter. There's actually a ton of shelters and rescue leagues in this area, and they all hang out at the PetsMart in Savannah. We went last weekend, and there were probably four or five groups there, with animals in every aisle. I was lucky to get out of there without TFYO taking every dog and cat in the place with her. I think we're going to the Savannah-Chatham Humane Society this weekend. Wish me luck. I'll post pics here when we finally make up our minds, or an animal makes up it's mind for us.

Oh, and as Bob Barker says "Spay or neuter your pet!"