I want to move on. So. Damn. Badly.
Sometimes, I wish there was a big hand from the sky that would reach down, grab me by my bootstraps – well, wait, I don’t have bootstraps – by my t-shirt shoulders and plop me down wherever it is I am supposed to end up with whatever I have left from this year. It’s the unknowing that gets to me. Once I know, I’ll move on.
I have to move from this house for reasons as emotional as financial in nature. Regarding the sale of this house, I finally seemed to have resolve an issue of one small area that one or both of my cats has continued to mark their territory, or otherwise denote their dissatisfaction for me, the house or life in general. With cats, it could be all three, all the time. I’m sure if they could speak, they would sit me down and say “Marc, to be honest – you’re not exactly the owner we had hoped for.”
This is the one thing that will send me flying off the edge. I have had cats before and had to deal with a similar (and much worse) situation but this time, it is what they represent – a second set of cats that I was not all that enthusiastic about and talked into by my wife in the best interest of the kids.
She knows me well. If you want me to do anything – just add “in the best interest of the kids” to the sentence and I’m sold. I’m a sucker that way.
“Marc, I really think you need to shove this shovel up your ass.”
“Um – I’m not really sure that sounds like a good idea.”
“It’s in the best interest of the kids.”
“Ok, I guess. Which end is best to start with?”
On the day she left, I developed significant neck pain and apparently, she developed a serious set of allergies (though my skin looks like a braille card anytime I take an allergy test). As such, I am stuck with these cats regardless of protestations. There is no way to rid of them, these creatures who ignore me other than the daily presents they leave just outside the litter box. Every time my son is around, the male cat follow him around like a lost puppy. My daughter is guarded on a regular basis by the female cat. It would be cruel for me to get rid of them, though I fantasize about it on a regular basis. And I make no secret of this either. Both my kids know it.
Haley Joel Osmet saw dead people everywhere in The Sixth Sense. I smell cat pee everywhere – my hoodie, the family room, the waiting room at the doctor’s office. It’s insane. Clearly these cats have a meaning attached to them beyond their nine lives. They represent everything that I cannot seem to rid of – reminders that there is no clean break, there is no controlling that which cannot be controlled and the dual nature of poison and pleasure – driven by the perception of whom is on the receiving end.
This, in a nutshell, is the virtue of cat pee.
Until next time,