Friday, June 11, 2010

Friday Confessional

I'm hooking up with Glamazon Mom for the first time in a couple of weeks. I've been slightly indisposed, what with trips to the ER, cat bites, mega doses of antibiotics, a missing husband and such.

Anyway, I'm back and ready to confess. Sort of. I have a quite a few things on my mind that might be in the nature of felonies and if I stated them here, that could prove premeditated later in court, so I'm not going to do that.

I confess:

I left the cat pee pee alone in the kids play room after he got upset with the new cat liter that Alex insisted on for him and started using the kids play room as a big old cat box. I did pick up the kitty poop but just closed the door on the room because I was afraid it would make me faint if I went in there. I'm saving all this for Alex when he gets home today. Welcome home Baby, now go get rid of the kitty pee odor. Is that bad?

Although the cat bite episode of last Friday left me somewhat shaken, and then annoyed to find out the straggly poor cat actually belonged to my neighbor, I was somewhat relieved I could quit looking in the mirror to see if I was foaming at the mouth. At least I can rest assured I don't have rabies. So if someone shoots me because they think I have rabies, you all can testify for me in court that I do not, and the shooter can go rot in jail for life. Is that bad?

I tried to post a comment on Glamazon's site about her shoe situation, but I am so impatient, I just couldn't wait to do it and the comments thingie wasn't cooperating. Never mind. I hate shoes all over the house. I have 100 pairs, and they are kept in my closet. But keep in mind, my closet is a room that the former occupants used as a kid's bedroom. My shoes are in racks. Alex has a closet closet and about 10 pairs of shoes. Why does he have 20 pairs of shoes scattered all over the house if he only has about 10 pairs? It makes no sense at all. For this I sometimes think about cutting his head off when he's asleep. Is that bad?

I'm training my dogs to viciously attack when men come in the back gate. I'm hoping they (gently) attack Alex when he comes in to let him know that he is traveling way too much and I'm sick of it. Is that bad?

I spent about 4 hours watching "The Real Housewives Of NYC" yesterday, including the after interview thing they have at the end of the season. I really dislike all of these women and find them petty, stupid, selfish, self-important and so on. Do I watch them just so I can "hate" on them? Is that bad?

Alex's plane has landed and he's in his car on the way home. I've taken nothing out of the freezer for dinner. I've been living on cat food, (or grilled tuna and cheese sandwiches) for two weeks. Taking me out to dinner tonight is the least he can do. After he cleans the play room of the cat pee, that is. Is that bad?

I went to visit the fish man yesterday and thought about it. (Yes, Nicky, I did.) But then decided to go for a hot dog for dinner instead. Is that bad?

Thursday, June 10, 2010

That Consipiracy Theory Guy

I think every neighborhood has one.

He's the guy who doesn't think you should talk about certain things on the phone. He worries about the government and their secrets.

He also is usually more plugged in than anyone else on the block to what is really going on in the hood! He always knows more than anybody else.

We have a "Conspiracy Theory" guy who lives across the street. He's actually a pretty nice person, but perhaps certifiably strange. Craig has been on disability since we moved in, so he's usually at home.

If somebody is having trouble in their marriage, he knows all about it and knows what all the underlying issues are. When we had some young people peddling drugs out of an apartment on the block, Craig knew all about it before anyone else even suspected. We apparently have a prostitution ring in the next block too, but you couldn't prove it by me.

I guess the best way to say this is that he's fairly loopy, but not always wrong. He claims to have acted as an informant for the police (who Craig claims telephone him regularly to keep him in the loop with "what's going on" in our town). While I find this of questionable veracity, you also know there could be some element of truth in it although I doubt it. Still, Craig has been known to hit a home run from time to time.

For example, he's told numerous neighbors that Alex is in the FBI or the CIA. It changes. We have tried to correct Craig and say "It's just not true" , but he reacts with a "ssshh" finger to lips and swears he won't breathe a word. (The only way Craig could have gotten this from me is that I occasionally tell people Alex is an FBI guy but then explain I mean "Fat Bellied Indian".) My husband would not argue with this description.

I was rather shocked when he came over yesterday to ask how my leg was after the cat bite. (Who did he hear that from?) I told him I was fine. Craig then encouraged me to go to the doctor and insist on some tests. "They sometimes put poison on cat's fangs, you know." Uh, no, I didn't know, nor am I sure who "They" are. But us CIA types need to be extra careful, you understand.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Sexy Dirty Dangerous

Okay, we've all seen him. The biker in the leathers climbing off the Harley; the guy who gets down out of the 18- wheeler wearing the sunglasses; the hardhat worker in the low slung dirty jeans with the sweat stained tee shirt and the tan.

Movies celebrate him. Look at Marlon Brando as Stanley in "Streecar Named Desire", Rambo, or vintage Clint Eastwood. Yeah, you're getting the idea. For that matter, we just have to go to the "Romance" section of the closest bookstore to get a look at him on the cover of a lot of books.

These guys are not "metro-sexual". They are not guys who you would serve a quiche and a fruit salad, now are they? What they offer is excitement, adventure, mystery, and perhaps a hint of danger. And I think they appeal to the most basic part of our nature. There is something "raw" in their masculinity.

While men seems to think they corner the market in the lust department, I think that women also have their fantasies about sexy, dirty, and dangerous looking men. Keep in mind however, most women are too smart to confuse a momentary surge of attraction for the real thing.

When Kathleen Turner, a romance novelist, fell hard for Michael Douglas, an adventurer, in "Romancing the Stone", it was a fun situation. I doubt many women took it too seriously. But when the tables turned and Michael Douglas, a cop, fell for Sharon Stone, an adventuress, in "Basic Instinct", it seemed more logical. Why? It made no sense to me at all that a successful novelist would fall for a dirty, sexy, dangerous guy for real. I had fewer compunctions about Michael Douglas falling for a beautiful murderess!

I really do think it's because men are more visual than women. Most of the women I know would look at a man, but he would have to have all the other pieces to the puzzle for her to be really serious about her interest. Looking sexy is fine, but it's just one small component. With some men, I think the appearance feeds the fantasy and they may tend to overlook components that would be "deal breakers" for women.

I've known a lot of men who have fallen hard for beautiful, selfish, and untrustworthy women. I only know a few women who insist on hooking up with Mr. Wrong just because he's attractive.

Now, this post is obviously nonsense. I had nothing to say but wanted to wash the taste of cats, antibiotics, neutering, iv's, tetanus shots, rabies and bites out of my brains and out of my blog. I figured it was better to switch to something sexy, dirty and dangerous!

Monday, June 7, 2010

The Strangest Turn Of Events I've Ever Encountered!

Okay, we all know my sob story about the kitty named Blanca or Leo. Now, here's the kicker!

This morning, I was reading some of your very kind and sweet comments and crying a little bit about the nasty fate facing this poor cat. A woman came to the front door with a small child in tow.

I peeked out the window and debated whether or not to answer the door since I wasn't dressed. I figured, screw it, see who it is and opened the door.

Standing there was my neighbor Stacy. I wouldn't call us "friends" but she lives across the street and about 6 houses down and I know her to say hello to.

Stacy said "Robert told me you got bitten by a cat". (Robert is my neighbor across the street.) I replied that I had been bitten and started telling Stacy the saga of the kitty coming to my front door begging for food. She looked at me and said "Was it Ralphie?"

"Stacy, who is Ralphie?" I inquired. Ralphie is her cat who went missing a few days ago. I described the cat to her and she asked quite a few questions which I tried to answer. I told her I had taken the cat to the SPCA to get it neutered if it hadn't been but that the cat was clearly very underweight. She said it sounded like her cat who had been missing for the last week, but that her cat was already neutered.

"Where is my cat now?" she asked me. I told her I had taken him to the Shelter in town, and that he was being held in quarantine for 10 days because of the bites he had given me. She wanted to know why he was in quarantine and I responded that it was the law because of the danger of Rabies. (Stacy responded angrily that Ralphie did not have Rabies and that was ridiculous!) Then she asked did he bite you when you were trying to capture him?

I responded "No, he bit me when I turned to walk away after I fed him." By this time, I realized Stacy was angry as hell that I had interfered with her Ralphie.

Uh, excuse me. You let your cat outside with no identification, no collar or license, he's not chipped, and I haven't the foggiest idea who the cat is. And all this is my fault?

The cat is dirty, skinny, starving, and I'm supposed to guess that he belongs to someone in the neighborhood and just leave him alone?

Stacy was fairly abrupt when she left me. She was very upset that her cat might have been put down already. I understand that I guess. I did assure her that they would have to keep an eye on the cat for 10 days to assure he did not have rabies. So it was unlikely that Ralphie would not be waiting for her at the shelter.

After she left, I remembered that I had photos of the cat on my iphone and so I dressed and took the phone over to Stacy's house so she could try and make a positive identification.

"That's Ralphie!" she cried out! (By this time I knew of course it was fucking Ralphie.) Since Stacy and her hubby seemed more angry at me for my "help" than anything else, I felt kind of stupid over the whole thing.

I have $500 in co-pay charges from the ER visits and that I guess that should be enough to teach me not to get involved with animals who could belong to someone else. But it probably won't.

More than anything else, I'm so glad that this saga has a happy ending for that kitty! In other words, all's well that ends well, right?

Sunday, June 6, 2010

The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions

I really cannot make this a funny piece. There is too much sadness and too much just generally wrong right now.

I took my little kitty (Blanca or Leo) to the SPCA on Friday morning at 7 AM to get him or her fixed and to get shots. The vet took a quick look, said it was a male and he had been neutered. Upon a short examination, he also said he was a very old cat, and a very sick cat. The kitty had pneumonia and probably feline leukemia and was in very bad shape. His extremely low weight was probably caused from illness more than lack of food.

I was stunned and upset when he also said that the cat would have to be taken to a private vet and given oral antibiotics for at least 2 weeks twice a day, probably require hospitalization for a while, and kept inside for at least a month. I really don't have the resources to care for this cat.

I asked him if someone could just give him a shot of antibiotics and if I could just let him live outside and continue feeding him, and he said no. That simply wouldn't work because this was a very sick cat.

I had to consider my own cat, Smokey, and realized I could not expose him to a very sick cat. I decided it would make sense to take Leo to the Animal Shelter in the City I live in. There was a chance, although small, that someone (an owner) was looking for him. I was with my friend Nelson and I cried all the way to the Shelter, but didn't know what else to do.

I spoke to the people at the Shelter and told them about Leo's history with me. Because I was visibly upset, the people at the Shelter were very sympathetic to my plight and his. Still, what had to be had to be. They asked if he was friendly and I told them yes, primarily he was, but mentioned that he had bitten me a couple of times.

The Animal Control Police Officer said she would have to file a report on the incident and asked me where he had bitten me. I showed her my left leg where he had drawn blood twice.

The Shelter woman and the Police Officer both nearly gasped and told me that I had to get over to the local hospital immediately because I had a bad infection from the bites. I immediately began shaking with anxiety and terror. (I knew the area was red, hot, and painful, but I was trying to ignore it because I thought (hopefully) the antibiotic ointment I was using would clear it up.)

I went to the hospital ER and within 15 minutes had seen a doctor and was put on an IV containing massive doses of antibiotics. I was at the hospital for about 5 hours. The doctor recommended that I stay in the hospital for monitoring. I declined.

My other animals were home alone plus I am terrified of hospitals. The doctor let me leave with a lot of warnings to watch out for red lines going up my leg as well as other dire warnings that I would have to heed and return to the hospital immediately if they occurred. I stayed up for a solid 23 hours watching for the red line to appear. Fortunately, it did not. I was also given a prescription for 1000 mg of antibiotic that would have to be taken twice a day for the next 10 days.

The doctor insisted that I return to the hospital before 9 AM on Saturday morning so he could see how the area was coming along. It was a rough night.

I was checked on Saturday morning and the prognosis was fairly good. It looked less "angry" and the swelling was down which indicated that the antibiotics were going to work.

Poor Leo is being held in quarantine for the next 10 days to see if he has rabies. I doubt that he does, but I have no doubt that he will be put down as soon as his 10 days are up.

Sweet kitty, I am so sorry.