2/5/07

thought the free Hellcat with every case of water promotion at Sam’s was over, but apparently they’ve extended it. Now I’m torn. I need to get me some bottled water, but our house limit on wearing-out-her-welcome Hellcats (ie, MYRTLE) is at a maximum right now. Actually, if you consider that Miz Poo and Mister Boogers are approximately 48 – 53% Hellcat* depending on the day of the month and how many other cats are in residence, we’re over our limit. *Mister Booger’s Momma was 100% Hellcat, but luckily his father was half Ass-Showing-Fuckhead and half Sweet-Love-Monkey. Miz Poo’s mother was Crazy-Ass Tortie with a taste for the bad boys, thus her fling with a boycat who was mostly Hellcat, with a bit of the unknown tossed in there; I don’t know if he was a bit brain damaged or just flat out bugshit, but when the moon is full, you can see her Daddy’s influence as she races from one end of the house to the other, stopping along the way to smack the shit out of the boys.

* * * Standing in the kitchen of the Smallville house, filling up a sink of water to which I’d just added a big glug of ammonia so I could wipe down the counters, I paused. God. That sounds just like a herd of elephants, I thought. Though I was listening to a Grey’s Anatomy podcast, I could clearly hear the thundering sound approaching the kitchen. I switched off the water and turned toward the sound. Fred appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, wild-eyed and frantic. The front of his sweatshirt and his jeans were soaking wet. “MOVE!” he bellowed at me, and I wheeled backward, watching him run past me. My god! I thought. Something’s happened to Maxi or Newt! What if one of them have been hit by a car?! Why would he be running for the back door instead of the front?! Fred fumbled with the lock on the back door, half-turning toward me as I pulled the earphones from my head. “I don’t know why I said ‘Move’,” he said. “You weren’t even in the way!” He flung the door open and ran down the steps. My god! I thought, as I realized the thundering sound was continuing. He SAID ‘Move!’, but clearly Crackhead Bob broke into the house and is chasing him! Obviously what he meant was ‘RUN!’ I ran several big, goony running steps to the back door in time to see Fred reach the bottom of the steps. As I watched, he ran to the right, leaning into the curve in a motion we call a “Tubby Run.”

The Tubby Run: Years ago when Tubby was still alive, he was hanging out in the kitchen and somehow got the wrapper to a popsicle stuck to his tail. It freaked him the hell out, and he ran into the living room and did an end-run around the couch, where he leaned into the run, and it was about the funniest thing we’ve ever seen a cat do. To this day just thinking about it makes me laugh ’til I cry.

“What’s going ON?!” I said, though he was too far away to hear me. I threw my hands up in the air. “What the HELL?” The thundering sound continued. It sounded like… well, it sounded like a waterfall and THAT was ridiculous. Wasn’t it? Except that it was coming from the bathroom. And he’d been working on replacing the faucet and handles in the tub. I did another goony half-run to the hallway and saw water spraying out of the bathroom. As I watched, the flow of water stopped. I ran to the cabinet where we keep the cleaning rags – a huge pile of them – grabbed them all, and went to the hallway, where I threw them all down on the lake of water heading for the bottom of the stairs. “How bad is it?” Fred asked as he came through the back door. “You need to go somewhere and get more towels, because we don’t have enough to get all this water up!” I said, panicked at the thought that we’d paid thousands of dollars to have the floors redone, and they were on the verge of ruin. Then I caught sight of Fred’s face, remembered his Tubby Run to the water shutoff valve, and started laughing so hard I couldn’t say anything else. (We got the water cleaned up pretty quickly, from the floor where it was pooled, and the walls of the bathroom and the wall outside the bathroom, with no damage to the floors that we can tell. Thank god I’d recently stocked up on paper towels!) * * * Note to the concerned: We saw Maxi briefly on Saturday, so apparently she’s okay. I saw her sitting at the edge of the yard belonging to the people she officially belongs to, and told Fred she was out there. Fred went to the back door and called for her. In fits and starts she crossed our neighbor’s back yard, glancing cautiously toward the front yard, and finally approached Fred. Fred snatched her up, hugged and kissed and petted her, and brought her into the house for a few minutes. She didn’t want to stay in the house long, so I let her out the front door, where she ate a little food and then disappeared again. Later, I saw a couple of Mockingbirds hanging out in the front yard, eyeing the dish of cat food. I remembered how skittish Newt was earlier this week, and now I’m wondering if the fucking Mockingbirds have been dive-bombing the cats and eating their food. I love Mockingbirds because they’re sassy, but if they’re harassing the cats, I’ll kick their little feathered asses. * * * Fred put up a bunch of floor pictures over on his site. Check ’em out! * * * “Pardon me, but is it about time for the snackin’?” ::the sound of a porky cat hustling through the house as fast as his little paws can carry him:: “Did someone say ‘snackin’ time’?” * * * Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: I DON’T KNOW YOU, I CAN’T CHAT WITH YOU, PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE. 2003: Pictures found. 2002: That’s just the kind of sucky slacking emailer I am. 2001: You know, if I had ANY self-control at all, I’d wait to buy these books ’til they come out in paperback. 2000: No entry.]]>