The cat came back

Have you ever heard the song, "the cat came back"? It's an awful tune that gets stuck in my head occasionally and drives me to the brink of insanity. For whatever reason my son's first grade music teacher had them sing it in a program. So for the last 6 years it has been haunting me. This post is not really about that song, it is about our cat though. This week has been an interesting one in kerbyville. We were supposed to kick Murphy out of our house this year so things would quit breaking (you know, Murphy's Law). So the first two days of 2011 were awesome. Day 3, not so much. Not only was it back to school/reality day, it was also the day my gigi was scheduled to get 2 teeth pulled. All that went without a hitch and we made it home by 5:00 so I could start dinner. As I was cooking dinner, managing homework, sending the mister off to class, and playing nursemaid to my crying girl I decided to feed the small zoo that lives at our house. I headed out on the deck to feed the dog and 2 cats. Our male kitty Simba was being especially lovey so I pick him up. He started freaking out so I flipped him around feet out so he wouldn't scratch me. I looked down and figured out very quickly why. He had basically skinned his entire back leg. I mean muscle was showing. I don't do so well with that kinda stuff but I was the only responsible adult at home so I had to suck it up. The mister was gone so I gave gigi some Tylenol and put my little man in charge of cooking dinner. Simba and I headed to the vet. Now if you know the mister then you know that he is a farm boy. If you don't know what that means or you are a member of PETA you might want to quit reading this. On a farm cats are good for one thing, killing pesky critters. Well that is what our cats are for as well. That and to sit on my lap on early summer mornings and purr. Any hoo, spending any amount of money to save a cat is not really in the mister's budget but off to the vet we went anyway. We go in and wait for the estimate. I am texting the mister to see what he thinks. Final verdict? $350.00. Yowza! I text the mister, no response, I wait, no response, the vet assistant comes in and wants my decision, no response. So, I say okay, leave the cat there and head home. Once I am home I am flooded with text from the mister and remember that remark about saving cats not being in the budget? Yeah. Let's just say he was not to happy. The next morning I get up and head to the vet at 7:00am to pick up Simba. I bring him home all shaved and stitched with his little cone on his head. He has to have meds twice a day and live in our mud room for the next 2 weeks. The mister is looking at me like I have lost my mind. Let's just say we had to have a little mediation to work out our differences of opinion on the cat. It was said and done so we had to move on. My job as cat nurse had begun. A couple of days later the mister says to me, did you hear anything last night? Nope not really, did the cat meow all night? Nope, I heard a noise and thought there was someone outside. Went to investigate to find that the cat had escaped his kennel and was bumping into things with his cone head. So I put him away. I knew then that all would be well in kerbyville. The mister had accepted the cat mishap and moved on. The new joke in our house? Hmm, we could go out for dinner but we had to fix the cat, do you know how many ski passes you can buy for $350?, haha! I know that sounds like a lot to spend on a cat. I know people out there that would spend more to save their pet. I also know that he has taught us a lesson. Sometimes things that make no sense are the right thing to do. Would I do it again? yes. Once the mister saw how upset I was over the whole thing he sucked it up, bit his tongue and let me nurse that kitty back to health. He hasn't even complained about the fact that it is living in our mud room for 2 weeks. At night when I go down and put Simba in his kennel, I hear him purr loudly and he looks up at me I know I sound crazy but I swear that little kitty is saying thank you.