Tuesday, June 16, 2009
I realize my last few posts have been, well, depressing. I apologize and I promise to only do that once a month. :) So here is my much more upbeat post.
When my husband (who will hereafter be called Brad because thats his name) and I decided to spend the rest of our lives together, I knew there would be some things I would have to compromise on and I knew he would come with 'baggage'. Now, most people's baggage consists of some sort of skeleton in the closet...old flames, secrets, etc. Brad's baggage came in the form of a four-legged feline.
Calabash (the four-legged feline) was adopted from the Animal Shelter by Brad while we were dating. I should have known something wasn't quite right with her when we went to get her. I, like most idiots, stuck my finger in her cage to pet her. She proceeded to saunter over to me, under the guise that she would let me pet her. She didn't. She bit me. Hard. I should have known then. But I figured she was just tired of being in the cage. Like I said, idiot. I try to see the best in people, and animals. Either Brad didn't see this deliberate display of domination, or he was just too mesmerized by her beauty, but he adopted her anyway. She is a smart one, that cat. She uses her beauty, which she is quite beautiful, to lure you in. She is like a woman that way. Anyway, she comes to Brad's apartment which doesn't allow pets, by the way. She makes herself at home. She continues to bite me. A LOT.
She earned the name "Devil Cat" in college by all of his roommates and most people that came to visit. She would bite you if you walked by too many times. She would bite you when you would bend down to pet her. She would sleep on her bed, which you may think was actually yours, and bite you when you tried to go to sleep. This did not stop when we got married and moved in together. She had her perch on the kitchen counter and would bite you for no reason. I cannot count the number of times that I could not sleep because the cat was in our bed. I did not trust her. At all. I mean, it doesn't help that I would antagonize the crap out of her, but I only did it as payback.
Fast forward about 8 years. Calabash is now about 15 or 16 years old. We moved into a new house. We extended her life by about 5 years. I cry. Honestly, this cat my never die. She loves the new house. We even got a new dog. One that antagonizes her worse than I do. She doesn't falter. She hides for a week, but emerged with renewed strength and stronger teeth.
One day I realized it had been a good 5 months since she had broken my skin. I was impressed, I thought she was finally starting to warm up to me after 12 years of ownership. Then she bit me. She then promptly lost her place as the wallpaper on my phone. Now I know if Brad reads this he will claim that I love the cat. I do love her. I'm also scared of her. And I seem to remember a time that he screamed like a girl when she lunged at his neck. So hopefully he now won't say anything. :)
So why am I a sucker you may ask? Well amid the scars, emotional and physical, that this dear cat has left upon his wife, Brad is determined to get another cat. I have fought it for as long as he has wanted one. The other night we went into Petsmart to get dog food (why can't they just eat the cat?) and Brad fell in love with one of the cats for adoption. I almost caved. I may have caved, but their adoption hours were over. I like to think it was divine intervention. He thinks it was because we took too long at dinner. Regardless, we didn't come home with the cat. So I win, for now.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Is that even possible? I'm a facebook junkie. I don't do a whole lot on there, but spend way too much time. I just like to see what everyone else is doing, who isn't talking to me, who is friends with whom, who kept in touch, etc. Today I read something from a friend of mine that seemed as if it was written for me. It basically said "I'm trying to find my way, please help me". Of course the 'finding my way' struck me, but it was from a guy. I guess I think guys are much more certain, more deliberate, stronger. Its not often that they need help, and less often they ask for it (or so we think). I have been struggling A LOT lately with quite a few things. My poor husband is often my therapist/husband/crying shoulder/sounding board. He is too good to me. As much as I rely on him, even he can't fix this. I have to turn it over to the Lord. That is exactly what my facebook friend was doing. Why is this so hard for me? Why do I feel like this is my fight and won't allow anyone else in? People are willing to fight with me, why won't I let them?