I’ve been quiet lately, I know. Nothing all that exciting or extraordinary was happening. And I was feeling lazy about blogging.
What have I been doing (besides dropping off of the face of the blog-earth)? Going to the movies with friends (Sex & the City = awesome!). Going shopping for a wedding dress with my sister-in-law. Going to a Pirate game and staying to see Scott Blasey play afterwards (and drunk-dialing friends so that they could listen to him via cell phone). Keeping my house relatively clean, which is always a struggle for me. Reading a lot. Playing Mob Wars on Facebook, which is surprisingly fun (maybe because I have a fake bank account with fake money in it). Working on plans for the benefit for the American Cancer Society that Mike and I do each year.
This weekend, the quiet will end.
My brother called me on Saturday night to tell me that a stray kitten had wandered over to my Dad’s house from the farm across the street. Around twenty years ago, Giz (who we just had put to sleep at the beginning of June), did the same thing. The kitten has markings similar to what Giz did, although he even more closely resembles Wrigley (one of Giz’s offspring that I had for 7 years before she had to be put to sleep due to kidney failure). We’re not talking your ordinary run-of-the-mill tabby or calico cats–these cats are predominantly white with raccoon-looking tails, one dark spot on their back and markings on their face. Very distinctive. My first thought was that the kitten is some great-great-grandchild of our beloved Giz.
In my crazy little head, this is a sign. I told my brother to do what he can to keep the kitten around for the time being (um . . .feed it) and I’ll make some kind of arrangements to come get it. I hung up the phone and told Mike that I had an additional birthday present for him (his birthday was yesterday).
If it’s possible, he’s even more excited than I am. Maybe because he’s never had a kitten. I, on the other hand, distinctly remember the days of the heart-wrenching meows and the ripping and tearing through the house–all at 3AM of course. We both hope this cat will be exactly like Giz realize that the chances of this cat having Giz’s personality and being as affectionate as she was are slim-to-none. Giz was one of a kind and completely irreplaceable.
So I called a vet in The Sticks that my mother had always taken her animals to, explained the situation (um . . .the possibility of bugs or parasites to come along on the trip back to Pittsburgh is a “situation”), and made an appointment for Saturday morning. So late Friday night I’m heading back there to meet the new member of our family.
The kitten’s name is Forrest. I’ve never named a cat before I got it, but when Mike suggested Forrest, I agreed immediately. Mike loves that name and it drives me bonkers (my name is Forrest . . .Forrest Gump), so naming the cat Forrest immediately rules out the possibility of Mike insisting on naming a boy Forrest, should the day come that we have a baby boy. Whew. That kitten has already saved us from months of fighting later on.
My biggest concern is Guinness, our ten-year-old cat. Until Giz was put to sleep, Guinness had never be an only child cat. She was always timid. Always hid. Now she’s finally come out of her shell. And by “coming out of her shell”, I mean sprawling across my pillow and kicking me in the head when I try to share it with her. She has a stronger personality now. She’s not the scaredy-cat she once was. How is she going to react to having to share our affection with a kitten when she’s always been the youngest?
Another concern is the furniture. With both Mike and I being gone most of the day, I shudder to think of coming home to see the loveseat we just bought in December being shredded. Guinness still has her claws, which get very very sharp unless we cut them once a week or so (which we don’t–it’s more like every 3 weeks). I can’t get the kitten declawed and leave him defenseless against a 12lb cat. Not an option. Besides the fact that we already have another cat with claws, I think declawing is cruel and inhumane. There are many issues in life that I’m wishy-washy on, but this is one I realized that I have a definite opinion. As an option, I looked into Soft Paws, and maybe we’ll give that a shot. I figure if I was able to stick a needle in the scruff of Giz’s neck every week for a year and a half, I can glue some nails on a kitten. Ha ha ha!
Are you tired of hearing about the new kitten yet? Just you wait until I go pick him up! I think I’ll need a larger memory card for the camera . . . .