metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tony's last straw I didn�t sleep at all last night. No, let me rephrase that. I slept soundly until 1:30 am, after which time I did not sleep at all. Or if I did sleep, it was rest-less, not rest-ful. I was awakened at 1:30 by a loud cat fight outside my bedroom window. I thought I might be Tony (a stray male who showed up and began quickly acting like he owned the place, terrorizing my two spayed females) and Sara (my fat black fraidy-cat). I staggered to the screened porch to find a hole ripped in it, where Tony had made his entrance. It was not Sara, however, who was engaged in the fight. It was one of the little kittens I found on the side of the road on Sunday. She was squared off with him, but she was cornered. I walked out and he immediately took off, knowing he had �done wrong�. I picked her up to comfort her. She was shaking and visibly upset. A faint odor of cat shit began wafting upward toward my nostrils. Hmmm�cat box? No, too strong. Ah, of course. Tony had literally scared the shit out of the little one (I have tentatively named her Muffin). Now I had cat shit on my pj�s and Muffin had it all over her hind legs. Bath time. Bathing a cat at 1:30 am � or � what the fuck am I doing? I was supposed to marry a prince and live out my life luxuriously in the south of France. But, no. Somewhere along the line I made a grave error and have ended up here, at 1:30 am, bathing a cat. I got her cleaned (finally � cats do not usually �take to� water), but needless to say I was thoroughly awake after the ordeal. After cleaning myself and comforting the little ones, I had to figure out a temporary way to keep Tony out of the hole he made until I could figure out a more permanent fix in the morning. I finally settled on a cookie sheet precariously perched so that when he tried to jump in it would make a racket, wake me up and I could run out there and intimidate him. I curled up in the recliner next to the front door so I would be sure to hear the noise. I was awake. My mind wandered. Oh, this. Oh, that. Oh, I must remember this to write about in my diary (what that was I do not know, but I do remember wanting to remember it). I wonder if the curtains I ordered arrived yet? On and on. This, that. This, that. Wandering around the sticky-sweet catacombs of my semi-conscious memory. The times of my life, vignettes of who I am, who I have become. My father berating me for playing with Barbie too much. (What the fuck was that all about? To this day, I do not know. It was just mean.) My father throwing my Easter basket all over the house and breaking it. He was drunk that time, so I know where that one came from. I did not know my father well. He was hard to know. A quiet introspective man, until he got drunk. Then he was full of rage and mentally abusive. He was physically abusive to my mother. They would have huge fights, hitting each other and throwing things. Getting stiches. Going to hospital. I hid in the closet many times. In fact, to this day, when I just can�t handle things, I run for the closet. Funny. About 4 am, Tony is back. I hear the cookie sheet fall on the cobblestone walkway. Bastard! I jump out of the recliner and burst open the door, he jumps back out the hole and I am victorious! My cookie sheet defense worked! I went out, repositioned the cookie sheet and climbed back in the recliner. So comfy... no, not. And, when I said I "jumped" out of the recliner, I did not exactly jump. It was more like sitting up, trying to move but I was wound up in the comforter like a human comforter burrito, then squirming and wriggling out of the comforter and doing a kind of rolling fall off onto the floor. So it was kind of like jumping. But not really. So now I am sleep deprived. Got up at 5:30 (usual time) and fed animals, fed self and K, kissed K goodbye and went out to find plywood and nails. I am boarding up front of screened porch. Those kitties do not have to live a life of terror. They�ve had it hard enough being dropped of in the middle of the woods to sink or swim. They don�t need to be terrorized by a predatory, cocky assed half wild cat. I hate to say it, but Tony has worn out his welcome. I will call around to see if anyone will take him, otherwise he is going to the pound, if I can catch him. Sorry, Tony. I gave everyone at work a heart attack this morning when I was here 10 minutes early, instead of 10 or 15 minutes late. It�s amazing how awake you can be at 7 am when you get up at 1:30 am. I guess I just need 6 hours to get ready each day. Of course, I would have to deal with the sleep deprivation. But, hey, it would be worthi it to be at work early every day. Heh. Sleep deprivation does not do good things for me, anyway. I am so out of it when I don't get enough sleep. I would not be at all surprised if I begin drinking my own urine (cream and a little sugar, please) and gnawing the cuticles on my toes. We shall see what today has to offer, and how I respond, if at all. 9:55 a.m. - 2003-08-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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