Yesterday, a mere four hours ago, was my birthday. No, I won't tell you how old I am, stop asking. It ranks right up there with the Worst Birthdays Ever, in terms of...well, Birthday Experiences.
I did get breakfast in bed by my son, which was sweet, and then it all went downhill from there. Oh boy did it.
In my bright frame of mind, I thought I'd drive down by Mt. Rainier to deliver two of our kittens to their new home. Not quite halfway there, and having fishtailed the suburban twice on the ice and snow covered roads, I turned tail and came back home. It was stupid of me to have even attempted to go, but I'd just wanted to DO something, GO somewhere on my birthday. Alas it was not to be.
Then I dealt with SURLY TEENAGER all day. SURLY TEENAGER was unhappy because all week had been snow days, with actual snow only the first day. The remaining days were Boring. There Was Nothing To Do. That was fun for me.
Then came The Sick Husband. He arrived home looking like death warmed over and promptly went to bed. I felt so sorry for him as his physical misery appeared to be nearing the point of Kill Me Now status. He did get up after a few hours in order to pull a frozen cheesecake out and make the kids (all but The Surly Teenager who is physically incapable of song while being Surly) sing Happy Birthday to me and then gave me a slice. Here's a little tidbit: Frozen cheesecake on sensitive new dental work? Not so fun.
Husband went back to bed. Kids wanted to know what was for dinner. I was having such fun, but apparently not enough fun to satisfy the Gods of Birthday Horrors, because the next thing I know is I'm holding Ashley's hair out of her face while she throws up in the kitchen. That was fun, but not as fun as cleaning it up. Then I made hubby's lunch for the next day (today) put it in the frig and decided to call it a night.
You'd think The Bad Birthday was over after that, wouldn't you? You would be wrong.
I finally fell asleep, with The Sick Child sleeping on the floor by my side of the bed, around 12:30. At 3:30 a.m. I hear hubby getting up to shower and get ready for work. At 3:50 a.m. I am suddenly in Flight or Fight mode as he slams open the bedroom door and yells that he just found the front door WIDE OPEN!
Oh joy. My heart is pounding as I hobble (bad back) down the stairs after him, to discover that the main floor of our house feels like the arctic, only colder. We sleep with our bedroom door closed in order to discourage the cats from using us as toys during the night, so we had not noticed the chill. I was hot all night (all three hours of it for me) and kept tossing the covers off. I'd chalked it up to my inner thermostat being on the fritz again, but no. It was because our furnace had been running full throttle all night.
We check to make sure we haven't been robbed. Nope. My wallet, keys and camera, sitting conveniently near the open front door, were still there. We're not missing anything but Cats. Two of them. Momma kitty and her four kittens are still here, but my favorite boy Bobo (formerly known as Dakota before the girls changed his name don't ask) and his son Twitchy (the girls named this one too) are both gone. I went out to look for them in the freezing rain (we did not get the four inches of snow we were promised, but we did get frozen sleet) but no luck.
My babies are gone.
I hate birthdays.
I did get breakfast in bed by my son, which was sweet, and then it all went downhill from there. Oh boy did it.
In my bright frame of mind, I thought I'd drive down by Mt. Rainier to deliver two of our kittens to their new home. Not quite halfway there, and having fishtailed the suburban twice on the ice and snow covered roads, I turned tail and came back home. It was stupid of me to have even attempted to go, but I'd just wanted to DO something, GO somewhere on my birthday. Alas it was not to be.
Then I dealt with SURLY TEENAGER all day. SURLY TEENAGER was unhappy because all week had been snow days, with actual snow only the first day. The remaining days were Boring. There Was Nothing To Do. That was fun for me.
Then came The Sick Husband. He arrived home looking like death warmed over and promptly went to bed. I felt so sorry for him as his physical misery appeared to be nearing the point of Kill Me Now status. He did get up after a few hours in order to pull a frozen cheesecake out and make the kids (all but The Surly Teenager who is physically incapable of song while being Surly) sing Happy Birthday to me and then gave me a slice. Here's a little tidbit: Frozen cheesecake on sensitive new dental work? Not so fun.
Husband went back to bed. Kids wanted to know what was for dinner. I was having such fun, but apparently not enough fun to satisfy the Gods of Birthday Horrors, because the next thing I know is I'm holding Ashley's hair out of her face while she throws up in the kitchen. That was fun, but not as fun as cleaning it up. Then I made hubby's lunch for the next day (today) put it in the frig and decided to call it a night.
You'd think The Bad Birthday was over after that, wouldn't you? You would be wrong.
I finally fell asleep, with The Sick Child sleeping on the floor by my side of the bed, around 12:30. At 3:30 a.m. I hear hubby getting up to shower and get ready for work. At 3:50 a.m. I am suddenly in Flight or Fight mode as he slams open the bedroom door and yells that he just found the front door WIDE OPEN!
Oh joy. My heart is pounding as I hobble (bad back) down the stairs after him, to discover that the main floor of our house feels like the arctic, only colder. We sleep with our bedroom door closed in order to discourage the cats from using us as toys during the night, so we had not noticed the chill. I was hot all night (all three hours of it for me) and kept tossing the covers off. I'd chalked it up to my inner thermostat being on the fritz again, but no. It was because our furnace had been running full throttle all night.
We check to make sure we haven't been robbed. Nope. My wallet, keys and camera, sitting conveniently near the open front door, were still there. We're not missing anything but Cats. Two of them. Momma kitty and her four kittens are still here, but my favorite boy Bobo (formerly known as Dakota before the girls changed his name don't ask) and his son Twitchy (the girls named this one too) are both gone. I went out to look for them in the freezing rain (we did not get the four inches of snow we were promised, but we did get frozen sleet) but no luck.
My babies are gone.
I hate birthdays.
Oh Pammy, I am so sorry. My heart is breaking over the news that two kitties are missing. Hopefully they will come back.
ReplyDeleteMy step daughter's cat went missing once. My husband and I walked around her neighborhood for three nights in a row calling his name (in between my crying) and nothing. Then about two weeks later, he shows back up.
I will pray for you two babies to come home.
Give me five minutes. I'm putting on my coat. I'm grabbing my vietnamese grandmother. we are headed over to your place. she will make some concoction that will have your husband up and running in no time. She will unleash an asian fury on your teenagers so intense they will drop on their backs and beg for forgiveness. she will then pick up your sick child and admininister some soothing tonic. meanwhile, while brand spanking new hubby gives you the massage of your life, i will load myself down with kitty treats and wander the universe looking for your babies.
ReplyDeletehappy birthday darling. let me know when i can come up there and open a six pack of reality for them.
For what it's worth, we got Ptolemy back. He was found five miles away, after two weeks out in the cold, and taken to a local vet. We had phoned all the local vets and rescue centres and put up podters in our neighbourhood. He was painfully thin but is recovering well now. I hope you get as lucky, Max and I know how distressing the loss of one cat can be; to lose two must be dreadful. Surely even the surly teenager must be cured of its self adsorption by this?
ReplyDeleteMay I share my prayer with you? Thank you.
ReplyDeleteDear God, Please look out for and protect the missing kitties. Keep them safe and warm. Please lead them back to their kind and loving family soon. Amen
Kindness, that was very sweet of you to share that prayer with me. I do hope that the one baby will be protected. He's not even a year old yet. He's not an outdoor cat and doesn't know how to survive out there in the cold.
ReplyDeleteI'm thankful that my Bobo came back. It's dark now again and I'll start looking in the morning again.
Anna. you are sweet beyond words. You truly are.
ReplyDeleteBoofy, so glad your baby came home and is now being cared for. It's awful to lose your cats as they are a part of the family.
ReplyDeleteWith so many people holding good thoughts...those kitties will find their way back..or you will be led to them...
ReplyDeletegood luck, we will be waiting to hear...