My horrible yesterday It took me several hours to…

My horrible yesterday

It took me several hours to be able to blog about this without become furious, and even though I’m STILL not sure I can do it, I’ll try.

Okay . . . so I took Bailey to PAWS to get neutered yesterday, and, since it’s their spay/neuter clinic, it’s customary for everyone with an appointment that day to drop their pets off at 6:45 am, and pick them up between 4:30 and 5:15. As you can imagine, drop-off and pick ups are crazy — especially since they operate on 20-30 animals each day.

I had the day all planned. I dropped him off, went to the client site, worked until 4 and then went back to get him. It was so chaotic when I got there that I just took the cat carrier, expressed my amazement that he had been a good boy, and then ran out to the car to begin my journey through horrible traffic to go home. I was planning to take him in, get him situated, and then I had to run errands, meet a friend, and go to book club.

EVERYTHING was thwarted when, after letting him out of his cage, I instantly realized that the cat that they’d given me WASN’T BAILEY. It was some other brown tabby that could have looked similar to Bailey, I guess, but it wasn’t him.

So, I called to say that I got the wrong cat. I was actually calmer than I normally would have been UNTIL the woman asked me if I was sure it wasn’t my cat. And that’s when MY claws came out. “What the &*%! do you mean am I SURE it’s not my cat? Blah, blah, blah.”

I immediately packed the Bailey imposter into his little case and started the trek BACK over to the inconveniently located PAWS spay/neuter clinic at 26th, a few blocks west of Kedzie. They apologized profusely, and said this has never happened before. It was happening with such ease, I couldn’t believe it had never happened, but, whatever.

By the time I arrived, they had narrowed down the guy who probably had Bailey. They surmised that I actually had Freddy. However, the circumstances didn’t sound promising. He hadn’t yet arrived home . . . nobody knew where he was . . . his downstairs neighbor called his girlfriend . . . etc.

So, they offered to “let” me go home and let them straighten it out. How quickly do you think I said “hell, no!”? There was no way I was leaving without my cat.

The thing that distressed me was that Bailey was a recent stray, and while he’s great with me, I don’t completely trust him with other people. Stray cats notoriously bond with the person that “rescued” them but might not be as good with other people. I was concerned that he didn’t feel well — didn’t understand WHY he didn’t feel well, and was being carted around by a stranger. I felt bad for the little guy.

So, we waited and waited, and FINALLY he arrived with Bailey, who was surprisingly calm. Much calmer than his owner.

I’m actually still kind of pissed about the whole thing. What’s kind of pissing me off even more are comments made by certain people. One of my faves “What if you liked the other cat better?” That said . . . any ideas for humorous comments . . . now isn’t the time.

Another language annoyance — the misuse of the ph…

Another language annoyance — the misuse of the phrase Catch 22. I’ve heard people use that phrase to describe everything from jubilation to death (as though Catch 22 refers to a weapon of sorts).

Catch 22 was taken from a novel by Joseph Heller, and it’s a circular dilemma. E.g.:You can’t act in a film unless you’re a SAG member, and you can’t become a SAG member unless you’ve already acted in a film.

Been meaning to blog about this . . . I really lov…

Been meaning to blog about this . . . I really love the book “The Four Agreements” by Don Miguel Ruiz. More people should read it. I think one of the most important agreement to make is not to take everything personally. It really removes a lot of the unnecessary vanity in our lives. I firmly believe that we’re happier people if we stop believing that people are doing things TO us, and start understanding that they make decisions FOR themselves. And if we’re adversely impacted by the decisions of others . . .well . . . that’s life.

But more on this topic later. As you can see, it’s very early, and Bailey has to get neutered today. I’m not looking forward to this. Yesterday and today, after reading many sites on wild cats, I’ve been caused to wonder whether or not he’s really happier inside than out. He’s not your classic feral. I can pick him up, carry him around, hold him — and he’s a big purr factory. He seems to love the affection. But I still wonder if I’m being a little bit cruel by domesticating him. Maybe against his true will. I guess I’ll never know, but I hope I’m doing the right thing. At minimum, he needs to be neutered, but is it selfish of me to want to keep him?

Kitty cat update For those who follow the life an…

Kitty cat update

For those who follow the life and times of Bailey, you will be happy to know that The Boy gets neutered tomorrow.

The new thing that he does is cry at the door of “his room.” The other night, I thought that he wanted to play with me, but when I went to check on him, he hid under the bed. So I sat on the bed for a while, and he eventually came out, but when he did, he sat by the door and started crying again. Turns out, he was looking for Phoebe. So, a cat that he’s never seen is taking precedence over the person who’s been feeding him and playing with him! How rude!!! LOL!

The sad thing is that Phoebe wants nothing to do with him. I let them meet for the first time yesterday, and he looked at her in curiosity, and she did nothing but hiss at him. Hopefully she’ll get used to him and they’ll be playmates. Of course I’m being extremely optimistic, although I’m still amazed that she’s not much worse. I expected endless growling and hissing, and she doesn’t seem to be too concerned that he’s inside of “her house.”

I’m sure the stories will get better when I give him free run of the house. Stay tuned.

I’m beginning to take issue with certain language …

I’m beginning to take issue with certain language misappropriations. Most of us are too old to roam the earth without education about a few commonly mis-spelled, mis-pronounced, and mis-used words. For some reason, today, I’ve decided to speak out. So why do I feel the need to give an English lesson? I don’t know what prompted this rant . . . just woke up excited about morphology, syntax, semantics and phonetics, I guess. It could be the wine from dinner last night. Who knows? But here goes . . .

Alot — this is not a word. I don’t care what you were taught by that crazy aunt when you were growing up, or how your older brother spelled it. I don’t even care that it’s such a common misspelling that it’s in the spellcheck thesaurus — which pertuates this horrible “americanism.” The correct version is “a lot.” Note the space between the two words. The only time any version of this word is even remotely correct, is when you’re trying to say “allot,” which means to assign. If you wouldn’t write “alittle,” don’t write “alot.”

Bob Wire – who the hell is Bob? It’s BARBED WIRE! Those little barbs on the wire are the things that can hurt you. Jeez.

Apropos — taken from the French, this word means “relevant,” and it’s not a substitute for “appropriate.”

Gambit — You don’t run the gambit, you run the gamut, which means you cover an entire spectrum of things. A gambit is a chess play.

Stationary/Stationery – when something is still, it’s stationary. When you write on it, it’s stationery.

Road to hoe – this one’s actually kind of funny. It’s not the road to becoming a hoe, it comes from gardening. The correct phrase is “row to hoe,” which is arguably even funnier.

My faves:

Nuclear — our own President can’t even get this one right. It’s not Nucular. It’s Nuclear! Pronounced Noo-Clee-Ur. Figure it out.

Menstruate — this is a pretty funny one too. It’s not men-uh-strate. Try men-stroo-ate. Get hooked on phonics! yeesh!

This ends my lesson for the day. Feel free to add your own frustrations if I’ve forgotten your favorite. I’m sure I’ll add more to the list as time goes on.

Happy Monday. Actually, it’s not a bad day here i…

Happy Monday. Actually, it’s not a bad day here in chilly Chicago — I’m just pissed off that we had that teaser of a temperature increase, only for it to drop to freezing again. What’s THAT about?

Cat update:

Bailey’s doing well, although he’s a nipper, I’ve discovered. Being a wild cat, I should have expected as much, but the good news is that he doesn’t bite to break skin — they’re just love nibbles — or so I’m telling myself. He gets neutered on Thursday. Poor guy. He’s going to hate me again. But once he gets neutered, and gets his shots, he can matriculate throughout the house, and meet Phoebe, who’s still relatively calm about his presence, surprisingly, Although she does let out an obligatory hiss every time she walks by his room.

I felt bad because he was crying in the middle of the night last night, and it was the first time I’ve heard him do that. Neither I nor Phoebe made a move to go check him out. I don’t want to set the precedence that he cries and I come running. This quality would make me the terrible parent of a child — which I already knew, but I’m gathering reasons.

Oh, and by the way — those Glade air fresheners with fans – they totally work. Bailey’s area smells great (fragrant, even) after I implemented the new technology.

And since we’re reviewing products, I saw the scariest thing that I’d seen all weekend. I was in Barrington (don’t ask) in Jewel and I was perusing the pet food aisle when I stumbled across a new Iams product, which is ’savory sauce’ for dogs. It looks dangerously similar to marinade, and could be mistaken for it by those who aren’t familiar with the Iams label. Who’s tasting this stuff? Obviously someone’s vouching for the ‘authentic’ chicken, beef, and bacon flavors. Yeesh!

Under-The-Bed-Kitty Another installment of the …

Under-The-Bed-Kitty

Another installment of the Cat Chronicles. Aren’t you excited?

Yesterday was Bailey’s first excursion outside of the cage, but still inside the guest room. He was reluctant at first, and seemed to be more comfortable inside the cage. Eventually his nosiness got the best of him, and he started to explore the room. He promptly found a home underneath the bed, and I’m really hoping he’s not going to be one of those cats who hides from everyone. I already have one who does that, and I really don’t want another.

And, of course, he made no noise when he was in the cage, but since he’s been released, he’s started occasionally meowing at the door. I have no idea why, because when I go in to check on him, he disappears under the bed. He’s a weird little guy.

Phoebe heard his meowing, but, since it wasn’t excessive, she let out a few cursory hisses, and then she was back to normal. She’s a weird little thing, herself.

When I left this morning, he was under the bed, although he mysterioiusly crept out to eat his breakfast, which was liberally spiked with Clavamox.

I predict a very exciting month of adjustment.

What is it with people who drive 1 mile per hour t…

What is it with people who drive 1 mile per hour through a parking garage when looking for a space? Does it really take that long to figure out that there are no open slots on a floor.

This morning, I was stuck behind a guy who seemed to drive past each space, slowly, as though he was trying make extra sure that there was really a car in them. In this particular lot, some of the spaces are reserved for those who need to be towed, or are getting car washes. He drove EXTRA slow past those, as if he had to read the sign every time. I wanted to jump out of the car and throttle him, but instead, I did the annoying thing of rudely tailgating until he sped up. I’m such an antagonistic driver. (Since I gave up boxing, it’s how I release my tension, unfortunately).

I didn’t get a good look at him, but I’m sure it could have been the same guy who had the 10-minute potato transaction in the grocery store the other day. Or maybe it’s the Universe exerting a sick sense of humor.

Bailey (alias “The Boy”) update

Aren’t you guys sick of hearing about my cat? I can’t help it — he’s SO sweet. He’s doing well, and as a friend pointed out, I’ve never officially made the announcement that I’m keeping him. He’s now an official member of the family, even though nobody else, including Phoebe, his sister-cat, is aware of his existence. Strange. Either her sense of smell is WAY off, or she doesn’t care. Still not sure which. Still not excited about figuring it out.

My parents are going to flip when they learn of the new addition. Not that they should really care, but since they’re the ones who kitty-sit when I travel, and they love animals (although they’re hesitant to admit it), they’re always edgy when there’s a new one in the collection. They’re afraid that one day I’m going to take in a more serious wild animal — like a wolf or something. I actually love wolves, so they’re not far off on that one.

The issue of yesterday was that I didn’t realize that his medication had to be refrigerated. They didn’t tell me when I picked him up the first time. When I was reading the fine print on the box, it said “keep refrigerated” and when I called the vet’s office, they casually said “Oh, yeah. You should be keeping that in the refrigerator. It’s probably no good anymore.” So, I had to run over there after leaving my clients to get new ($25) antibiotics for the boy — who’s costing me an arm and a leg.

Quick cat update . . . I’ve renamed The Boy. …

Quick cat update . . .

I’ve renamed The Boy. I called him so many things when he was outside — Scrambles (because he was always underfoot), which was shortened to Scrammy, for some reason. None of these names were acceptable (in my mind) for the long run. So, I’ve decided to call him Bailey. It has a good potential for nicknames (Bails, Bailey-Boy, etc.), and can be easily screamed.

The good news is that he’s no longer limping, and he got brushed for the first time and LOVED it!

More rants later. Gotta work!

So . . . first things first . . . The Boy (for lac…

So . . . first things first . . . The Boy (for lack of a better name) is just the cutest, sweetest thing. I had him in my lap this morning and he was a big purr-box. I hope the rest of it goes well . . . i.e. the neutering, integrating him with Phoebe and praying that he doesn’t ruin my house. A friend reminded me that I’ve taken a wild animal into my home, so I guess I should think accordingly and hope for the best.

And now for the irritation of the day — well, really yesterday, but it’s still fresh in my mind . . . I’m not sure those self-serve checkout lanes in the grocery store were a good idea. The idea is to use those when you have a few items, you’re in a hurry and (here’s the big one) you have the technological capability to use it. Yesterday, I was in line behind a man who was buying ONE potato, and it took him 10 minutes to complete his transaction. Let me just provide some guidelines, since we’re obviously having trouble with this concept.

You know you shouldn’t be using the self-serve checkout line if:

1. You have over 25 items. Get real.

2. Every item you have has to be weighed and looked up — and you can’t remember the names of each vegetable in your basket. Believe me. It really happens.

3. You’ve never been able to identify a bar code, or don’t have the dexterity to run it across the scanner.

4. You’re buying liquor. That ID check takes EVEN longer in a self-serve lane

5. You can never seem to separate those plastic bags or make decisions about which items are appropriate to bag together.

6. ATMs have always been perplexing to you. So many buttons. So many choices.

Spare us, and spare yourselves.