Have you read Marley & Me or seen the movie?  You know how Marley was ‘Clearance Puppy’ — well, my cocker spaniel was on sale, and it shows.  Truly he was bred to be a Christmas puppy, but by February he was a full on teenaged puppy and not as cute anymore and thus went on super bargain saver sale.  He is not right in the head.

First, he is clumsy.  He is only graceful when running at full speed in the yard — the problem is that he has the energy to do that about once per year and then must sleep it off for the rest of the year.  When walking, he falls up steps (mostly forgets that they are there and takes his front paws out from underneath him — resulting in sliding on his belly).  He has been known to bounce off the side of the bed/chair/couch when hopping up and then he is too afraid to try it again until you beg him to hop up or pick him up.

Second, he has weird rules about weather.  He hates things falling on his back like rain or snow, but adores plowing through the snow to run around.  He will have the shortest periods outside if there is so much as a mist falling, but let there be feet of snow over his head and he could poke around for hours.  With this he expects that you will be at the back door awaiting his return and will get upset and pout if you make him wait to return to his nap inside.

Third, he is clueless.  He is neither blind nor deaf, but clueless about the world around him.  When he was a puppy and would chase light beams on the carpet, he never noticed the brown bunny that would hop along outside or the squirrels that would tease him from our front steps.  He would however hunt with passion things like falling leaves.  Now that he is older, he didn’t notice the opossum that visited or the squirrels or the bunnies or the GIANT deer outside ever.  Nope, not once; until today.

Today, during our dog’s morning walk, I saw movement in the backyard a few houses down.  They have collies and so I thought there was a going to be a collie/cocker conference — but then this THING moved.  Now the deer I have that wander around aren’t small — they are more like the size of mac trucks instead of the slight Bambi like things I used to think of as deer.  This deer walked toward our back yard — he/she was 4 feet tall at the shoulder (roughly measured from a fence it walked by).  There was full stop.  The deer looked at the dog (probably wondering if it was going to give up it’s leaf diet in lieu of this tasty snack dog) and my dog was clueless.  In his defense, the deer was behind the dog, but the dog turned around to sniff something (does snow — white snow — have an odor?) and looked up.  My dog might not be bright, but his facial expressions are unmistakeable.  He clearly thought, “Um…..um…..help.” and FROZE.  There was a stare down.  The deer watched; the dog froze. Then, new movement behind the big deer, a small, slight, baby deer walked up behind.  The deer broke the stare down long enough for my dog to seize the chance to stop watching the deer and returned to sniffing.  The deer wandered off in another direction.  My dog, noticing the deer were gone, didn’t come on back in — oh, no…that would have made sense….

He started his whole sniffing, peeing, sniffing, pooping, morning routine over from the beginning with feeling this time.  URGH.  That dog is just not right in the head. (FWIW, he is now sleeping off his excitement — as I expect he will do for the rest of the day.)

Duke: Mama, Hobbes died.

Me: Yes, honey, he was old and it was his time.

Duke: Healy is still ok.

Me: Yes, buddy, the other animals are ok.

Duke: Healy doesn’t need to see the vet.

Alrighty then, we have our priorities.  Since this exchange I’ve been told that Healy doesn’t like the vet.

So, I’m ready for day two of 2009.  I’ve slept for nearly 12 hours, which makes me very happy — though going to bed at 7pm (I’m not kidding) was a lot weird.

The past 24 hours I’ve been smacked in the middle of my forehead with the concept of a blessing.  Oh sure, I could talk for hours about how I have a loving husband, an amazing child, my health, and many other trite things.  However, I’m thinking more in terms of when you think everything is off the rails and then (often on the other side of it) you realize that it was truly a good thing.

Yesterday, I spent the night without my luggage in Atlanta.  Why?  Because we spent 45 minutes waiting for a gate, only to have the gate changed to the furtherest gate from where we needed to be in ATLANTA.  We ran.  We missed the flight.  However, since it was the airline’s fault, we got meals AND an all expense paid trip to the local hotel.  Whoa, control the excitement.  (I ought to say that I didn’t sleep much last night and I may be a bit giddy.) I called my parents to tell them what was up and casually mentioned, “You know, this could be a good thing.  We won’t be on the road at midnight on New Year’s Eve.”  And I think I was right.  We had no delays, no gate issues and our bags appeared when we did.  Though the trip lasted 24 straight hours, I think it all worked out for the best.

Now for the bitter sweet one.  This morning we had five animals, 4 cats and a dog.  Yes, I fully accept we are insane.  The eldest of the animals is *MY* cat.  We got a call while we were gone that he wasn’t doing well.  I have known for some time that he was declining and the time was coming.  I never expected that I’d come home from my trip and need to take him to the vet.  Tonight, we have four animals — a nearly respectable 3 cats and a dog.

Let me tell you about my cat.  I was single in 1996 and living alone in an apartment and I thought I wanted a cat.  I mentioned it to a co-worker and one day I got this odd call.  My co-worker’s friend’s son had lured three kittens from under the porch of the crazy cat ladies house (it was about to be tented) and would I be interested in one of them.  Um, let me come see.  Now I wanted a black and white “cow” cat; I was presented with a 1 pound lump of ginger tabby fur.  He was covered in poop, because the boy had feed him canned cat food — and I seriously think the cat wasn’t fully weaned.  He was also covered in fleas.

For two weeks he was feral and lived behind my couch afraid of everyone.  I took him to the vet and asked about the hope he’d be a lap cat.  He told me talk to him and he’d be ok.  One night I woke up to a kitten nose in my nose.  He slept with me ever since.

I named him Hobbes.  Yes, after the comic of Calvin and Hobbes.  Hobbes talked to me.  He’d tell me about his day and I’d tell him about mine.  He snuggled with me when I was sick.  He made single life better for me.

Hobbes was the subject of my first conversation with Prince.  It was talking about pets that got us talking to each other.  Hobbes liked Prince and came up to him right away.  Prince doesn’t believe this, because Hobbes snuggled with me more — but face it, he was my cat.

My cat saw me through a marriage and a baby — after being there when I was single.  His fur soaked lots of tears.  When I was pregnant, his favorite thing to do was to sit on my belly and purr for Duke.  While babies scared Hobbes, Duke was as much his as mine and he was ever watchful of the child.

Hobbes had a flaw.  He puked. Alot. Ok, so he could not tolerate food changes and needed to find the right food that would stay down.  I’ve cleaned up a ton of puke in 13 years.  But he was mine — and gave us all many laughs when I’d step in the puke puddle in the middle of the night.

Today, we finally arrived home and Hobbes was seriously unwell.  Worried about money, I wanted to wait, but Prince insisted we call.  He did and it was reasonable and I took him in to say goodbye.  He had such labored breathing when I arrived that there was an emergency called until I said, “I want nothing done.  It is time.”

I have cried.  I have said good bye.  I have no regrets — Hobbes and I had 13 years and I wouldn’t give those up to avoid the pain I feel now.

I came home and was finishing a show before getting taken to a diner for dinner (Prince wisely knows I’m not cooking the night I traveled 24 hours straight and put my cat down).  Behind me a cat pukes.  I declare, “It’s not my cat*.”  And that, strangely, feels good.

*Prince has a cat; the dog has a cat; and Duke has a cat.  I don’t know who the dog belongs to.  And, no — I don’t want a cat — I’m fine being without a cat for a bit.  Perhaps Duke will share.

I realize that you outnumber the humans in this house, but we need to sit down and get some rules that shall be followed from this point forward.  Failure to follow my simple rules will result in the removable of all kibble and perhaps your fur coated body from my presence instantly.  Remember that despite what your feline brain tells you, you indeed live here at my whim and I do not exist to merely serve you.

1.  There is NO appropriate time for you to lay across my neck.  No, not even then. Or then.  In fact, if I’m horizontal, you are absolutely NOT to lay across my neck and PURR loudly.
2. My toes, under my blankets, are attached to me and are not in fact devious mice like creatures that must be hunted and pounced on at anytime, most especially at 3am.
3. When I have a laptop in my lap, this is NOT the time to decide I’m lonely and need your company.  I do not wish to have you standing on my lap between me and my laptop.  In addition, when you do find the appropriate times to come to my lap, kindly take a seat and do not stand there with 14 billion times your body weight pushing down on all four of your paws at once.
4. If I put you out of my lap, this is not a game in which I’m asking you to keep coming back.  I put you on the floor for a reason (most likely to grab my laptop again) and I don’t want you to return just yet.
5. Feeding time in at 10pm at night.  Not at 3, 4, or even 5am.  No, I’m not getting out of bed because you are pawing at me for an hour in the early am.  If another cat in this house ate your food, learn from it and eat when the food is put down.
6. If my hands are outside of my blanket, this is not an invitation for me to pet you.  No, not even if you are kind enough to push, forcefully, your head under my hand.  If I am asleep, I do not wish to be woken up to your attempts to STEAL petting from me while I sleep.
7. Speaking of sleeping, when I’m on my stomach, my lower back is NOT a bathing location.  EVER.  You are not to crawl up and sit/lay/lounge in the small of my back and bathe LOUDLY.
8. You are also not to grump when I roll over to get you out of the small of my back.
9. You are NOT to puke on my bed.  ’nuff said.
10. Duke wants to play with you and he has learned to be gentle.  Please forgive him past tail pulling and get over it already.  The looks of “when is this thing going away” don’t work on me and I will be happy to hold you down for some 4 year old to pet you.
11. I know your schedules during the day is tough — what with the sleeping, puking and shedding thing needed to be done.  Please do us all a favor and pick up after yourself.  After you move my shoes around because you MUST put your face in them, could you put them back where you found them.  After you play for hours with some random lego piece/marble/Duke toy, please return it to his room where he can step on it and not me.  I’d be happier if you’d clean up the puke and the hair bunnies — but alas, I know when I’m asking for the moon.

Finally, this is *MY*  house and I let you live here.  Should you wish to continue to enjoy my good graces, you need to follow my rules to the letter.  I shall post them for your review at each of the litter boxes, as I know you’d prefer to have something to read as opposed to that pesky covering thing.  (Speaking of which, whichever one of you spends more than 4 minutes covering your work, please use the downstairs box so i don’t hear it at 2am.)

Yours,

The Management

I 5 very specific reasons I’m both Grumpy and Sleepy.  And what kills me is that I feed them, walk them or clean their litter boxes, and even snuggle with them.  You know how they repay my love and affection?  By taking over my side of the bed AND demanding I pet them at 2am (seriously, I don’t LOVE any furry animal enough to rub their head at 2am.)

I keep wanting to plan for a nap today, but frankly, I’m so tired, I don’t think I have the energy to nap.  I need more coffee for sure.   However, I totally have the energy to poke any cat in this house who THINKS about taking a nap today.  Seriously, I may just be forced to take them all to the vet for fun.  I don’t care how, but there is NO way there will be all day napping for the animals.

You interrupt MY sleep time, then I interrupt yours.  That’s fair, right?  And highly productive, right?