It's a shame they don't just fix their cats, when clearly they are broken.
I've been wanting another cat, since I had to let go of Oz last fall. Well, not just a cat, really - truth be known, I'd really just like Oz back, but he's waitin for me on the bridge. There was just something about him. We needed each other. He was an older cat in a shelter with a limited shelf life. He never talked, he just indicated his needs with a pleading stare, or wave of his paw, and I guess focussing on his needs kept my mind off of my own fading dreams at the time. The 13 years he was with me was way too short, but we are both in better places now.
Which is why I did not come home with a kitten.
I do have a short haired-teenaged-back-talkin-cat, that my daughter begged for 2 years ago, and hasn't fed once. I would like a fluffy cat to cuddle with, cuz Ember [think smoldering fire] isn't very cuddley. I have been teachin her, though. I pick her up, give her a big fat kiss, and then put her down before she has time to complain, and I think it's beginning to work. Now when shes sees me comming, and flops on her back to tease me, she doesn't chew on my hand as much when I fall for it - and I always do. At least once a day, she comes to me wanting to sit on my lap, and tuck her nose under my arm. Sometimes, she follows me downstairs, aka "lair of the evil snake" which means she trusts me to protect her from the air compressor. So while she's not squishy cuddly, we do seem to have an understanding: She's all I've got, and I'm all she's got.
After a long day of saling, I got home, and slowly began to unload and unpack stuff. One of my purchases was a bottle of lamp oil for 10 cents. I was tired - gonna putting this last thing away, saving the rest of the stuff for later. Sometimes, I'm just a bit meticulous, and noticing a dent in the bottle, I had to fix it. I loosened the the cap, and it appeared to be going successfully, and then the darn thing exploded all over me. I think I stood there dripping in oil, shocked that plastic would break apart like that. I was almost completely covered, ruining my favorite tank top [actually purchased new!], so there was to be no damage control - except for how to get myself to the bathroom without dripping oil on the way. I lathered up with Body&Bath's Black Amethyst [bought on sale - but normally reserved for special osscasions] shower gel to lift my spirits as well as the oil off of my skin. I got out, dried off, went back downstairs to put a piece of cardboard over the spot, so no one else would walk in it until I could clean it and started to go to bed.
Hmm, I seem to be missing a critter.
Where is Ember?
Found her in a corner lookin confused. She musta been right behind me when the oil exploded, cuz there she was, furr all slick & spikey lookin, and she didn't look happy. Darn it! The longer I think about it, the worse it will be. I turned on the bath water once again, quickly grabbed her, squirted the Black Amethyst down her back [why not?] and held her under the faucet with one hand, while rubbing her down with the other. She seemed a bit shocked at first, but that may have been left over shock from the oil explosion. She did seem to like the warm water cascading down her back, and the massage didn't hurt either. After, I hugged her up in a giant fluffy towel, which she completely soaked, no easy feat for a short haired cat.
She still didn't come to bed with me, probably sulking and licking herself dry most of the night, but this mornin, she doesn't seem to be mad at me, even though she is still a bit greasy.
Maybe she is sucking up to me so I won't give her another bath?
Update: I really feel bad, but what more could I do? I didn't know she got hit with the oil or I woulda stuffed her in the shower with me. It wouldn't be the first time I took a shower with a cat. [but that's a story for another time]
She was sick for a few days. Sick, laying around not eating much, and weirdly affectionate. After a coupla days, she began eating and following me around, climbing in my lap, and all clingy and stuff. A silly person would think her to be greatful cuz I saved her life, but remember this is a teen-aged-back-talkin cat, and ya'll know that teanagers only talk to their parents when they want something . . .
While I was petting her, I noticed some tuffs of hair stickin up funny. I put on my reading glasses and poked around to discover some flaky skin. I got a fine tooth comb and began combing her head, and she began to purr. Yep, her hair is commin out, and her head itches.
Her new nickname is, . . you guessed it - Baldy.
No comments:
Post a Comment