Cat Scratch Fever

Now that the holiday season has reached its end, I feel I can spare a few minutes for my poor neglected blog. I am giving up time I could be spending packing away ornaments, snow villages, garlands, stockings and lights, but I feel a certain responsibility to update my readership on a somewhat regular basis. The sacrifices I make...

It has been a glorious two weeks, spent doing almost nothing, which was not at the top of my To Do List. I had grand plans; oh, the things I was going to accomplish! However, it didn't happen. Instead, my husband happened. Oh yes, he's had two weeks off as well, and somehow, his spur-of-the-moment remodel plans have chewed through my days. This wouldn't be in issue, if he hadn't chosen to begin the first of them on the 21st of December. But really, is there a better time to decide to rip down an entire wall of lathe and plaster than three days before a major holiday? I think not. So I was overjoyed when he announced that he was going to do that very thing. To one of our dining room walls. In the main part of the house. Mere days before my family was set to arrive. Can't you just feel my excitement? So there I was, in the throes of holiday preparations, staring down the barrel of construction. Fine. I'll just clean the house, bake five million cookies, wrap just as many gits, shop and cook and do well, everything while The Man takes his testosterone out on an innocent wall. And I'll just deal with the dust later!

He was making pretty good time with the whole thing, so I started feeling better about his decision to throw a big ol' monkey wrench into my festive season. Part of the project meant removing base trim, which revealed parts of the hardwood floor not previously finished and stained. Lord knows we had to have that done before the guests started to arrive. So on the night of the 23rd, he stained the floor and put on a coat of polyurethane to seal it up real good. I was blissfully wrapping the six millionth present, watching the Gnome Mobile with our daughter, and only half paying attention to his antics. Until he strolled into the living room and informed us that he had established a barricade to keep us off his precious floor. Then it hit me. G and I can walk around, but I guarantee that our cats will go right for the still-wet poly. And they did. Well, one of them did. Marley is not the brightest star in the sky. She's a few fries short of a Happy Meal. Her elevator doesn't go past the first floor. When she walks, her brain forgets to tell her back end to move. In other words, Marley is Special. So I asked my beloved, "Do you have a plan for keeping the cats out of there my sweets?" "No, they'll figure it out." The smart one did. But when Marley came hopping into the living room, shaking her paws and licking for all her worth, I knew she had not in fact 'figured it out'. This is when it occurred to me that polyurethane might be slightly toxic, and at that very moment, she was licking just as much of it as she could. "Great, how am I supposed to get that off her feet?!?!?!" Mr. Helpful suggested warm soapy water might do the trick. From his spot on the couch. It's a good thing I keep him around...

I have attempted to bathe cats before. I think it should be an Olympic Sport. For sheer entertainment value, there's no better bang for your buck than watching someone attempt to fling a little soap and water on a cat. Google "how to bathe a cat" sometime, and see what you come up with. I'd appreciate any pointers. So, I heaved a huge sigh, something any husband worth his salt would take as a sign that he was in trouble, huffed into the kitchen and ran a sink full of soapy water. I then huffed back to the living room, heaved an even bigger sigh, which meant he was sleeping on the couch that night, grabbed the offending feline, made the sign of the cross, hugged my baby goodbye, and headed back for the sink. Ten minutes later, I was thanking my lucky stars we had decided to remove her front claws. And all I did was wash her feet; the rest of her was bone dry. I was soaked. Head to toe. My right arm was bleeding from the ten-inch laceration she'd given me as she crawled up the front of me, I was covered in cat hair, and looked like I'd just been through a tornado. But her feet were clean!

I sank down into the chair, let out the world's biggest sigh and asked, "How are you going to keep the cats out of there until it dries?" "I DON'T KNOW BUT IT'LL BE DRY SOON!!!!" He's still sleeping on the couch.

We managed to put the house back together, eat our way through two days of family fun, and come out of it all with a beautiful new dining room wall. Merry Christmas to us! And for those of you who were wondering, the cat is just fine.