|Liliana standing near said clutter|
Two weeks ago I again heard the scratch, scratch, scratch as well as observed some scurrying that had me screaming like a two year old girl. The Bee famously** left the lunch I packed for her in the bag that she had carried that day in the porch and it had attracted a mouse. Each time I would relax I would hear it scratching again. Despite being a grown woman of considerable size, I was still whimpering like a baby as I threw a dozen shoes at the noise, carried a pot and pan to bang on whenever I walked through the house and harassed poor Effin Guy and anyone else who possessed night owl tendencies as I would chat them up on the telephone for hours as my body would refuse to relax and I would find myself scared and my sleepness nights now were due to a tiny mouse as opposed to my massive other worries.
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Nodding at my desk the next day I thought of other options. After yet another all nighter and a cranky day at work, I called my sister and begged to borrow one her cats, Fat Mittens or Midnight. She was reluctant but agreed that I could pick one up after work if I must. She also suggested I try her neighbors whose cat had had a couple of litters of cats and they were looking to give one away. I considered the Animal Friends of Lansdowne but my friend Spotti Dotti unwittingly slashed that idea when she told me the requirements the group had for adopting an animal. Home visit, vet references, interviewing people that know me? Who did they think I was? Michael Vick? I could call Mark again but it seemed as if the traps and poison were undisturbed. In fact kept joking that perhaps I should lie down near the traps as the mice seemed to have done such a great job avoiding them. The idea of a cat of our own was very seductive but The Bee has allergies and what kind of mother was I to willingly bring an allergen into her environment? Oh, but what was worse? My kid sneezing from a cat or flea bitten from a mouse.
Catgate, as I began to think of it, took up much residence in my head. I worried what my mom would say. No, she does not live with me but she does have much influence over me. She hates cats and had urged against getting one in the past. Those nasty mice made me feel like the world's messiest everything. Plus the responsibility of a pet! I didn't think I would be responsible enough to not have a cat house. You know what a cat house is: house that you walk in and immediately know of the existence of a cat due to an eu de litter box fragrance as well as the fine haze of fur that always seems to permeate the air of some cat owners. Plus, I would totally be a cliche! Singlish *** library type who crochets now has a cat! All I would need were a bun, cardigan and sensible shoes to complete the picture. Sheesh! My worries over what people thought were quickly quieted when I found myself snapping at a coworker, about go nuts on some kid playing Dora and forgetting to make copies that I needed for a craft.
When I went to borrow Fat Mittens or Midnight I incorrectly assumed an easy exchange from my BIL but was surprised at the level of attitude he gave me! Instead of a flat out NO he encouraged me to visit his neighbors who had had a litter of kittens and had a
|The Bee and Liliana watching a video|