Gorilla Cats and Dear Brothers

I learned an important lesson this past week. Do not try to give away someone else's pets for them. They don't like it. The pets, I mean.

I was attempting to assist my dear beloved brother to rid himself of two of the seven cats he has. I was amazed he didn't have more. But after a large vet bill he was ready to admit he had too many cats. Even still, he wanted to pay a hundred dollars apiece to send them to a cat rescue place somewhere in Beaumont. Translated. He wanted hundred bucks each and me drive them to Beaumont. That is beyond my sisterly kindliness. Plus I'm cheap. I thought, "Hey, why don't we give them away at the my church's rummage sale?" People will buy anything at yard sales, especially if it's free.

His cats did not think that was a good idea.

They arrived Friday afternoon in the carrier crates. My brother introduced me to Ted and Lester. Ted was all black and hunched in the back of his carrier glaring at me. Lester, a black and white short hair, had the deer in the headlights look of shock as if to say, "Where the heck have you taken me?"

My dear brother laid prostrate on the floor for a long time whispering and making noises to Ted and Lester. Outstretched he reached his hands into each carrier to pet to comfort his furry children. He spoke to his boys in their own kind of kitty language. I knew giving them up for was akin to me giving up my own children to strangers never to be seen again. I felt like the evil stepmother. If I didn't already have two of my own I would have taken them. But two is already too many for my husband and divorce would be imminent if I took in anymore cats. As much as I love cats and want to help my brother; I would much rather be married to my husband than take in his cats.

Eventually the dear brother left. I placed Ted and Lester into the master bath where they could have all the comforts of home but be out of the way and safe. The tub has a flat seat area at one end next to the window. I placed them there. They had a safe view of the room and the litter box was next to them inside of the tub. I checked on them every hour or so. In the evening I came bearing turkey lunch meat in attempt to coax them out of their carriers. So far they hadn't come out even though I had left the doors to their boxes open. I sat on the edge of the tub holding the sandwich meat. Lester's nose twitched and he poked his head out of the plastic box.

I could see what my brother had meant when he had said the kitty had a jester's smile. The bottom half of his face black except for a white line that curved above his lip and out to his cheeks. I could see how it looked like a long white smile. But to me it looked more like an elegant clipped mustache that compliment his salt and pepper eyebrows. He wasn't a jester. To me he was Lester the professor.

After a while Lester's stomach got the better of him and he came out of the carrier box and nibbled turkey meat from my hand. Ted remained in his carrier, glaring at me.

Next to the tub is a large sliding window. It's one of those double pane jobs. We had new windows put in the year before. I had had it opened a couple of inches all evening as the carrier boxes seemed to have a cat urine stench embedded in the plastic. The window is a good four or five feet long and high. It takes a big of effort for me leaning over the tub to open it. On occasion when I have had to lock up my own kitties. I gave the acidic air a sniff and thought it would be fine to leave the window open a bit. it was a heavy window and there was a screen, after all.

Both kitties were huddled together. Lester had joined Ted in his box and was sitting on top of him. They had plastered themselves against the back of the box. I told them goodnight, turned off the light, closed the door, and went to bed.

About 3 am there was a crash. I thought groggily the cats had finally come out of the carrier and had knocked it over into the tub with the litter box. I looked at the clock. Three am? Crap. I don't want to get up. Then there was a second smaller crash. I sat up. That can't be be good. As I ambled across the bedroom floor as fast as my arthritic feet would allow me I heard two small thumps. Crap. That really can't be good.

I opened the bathroom door and flicked on the light. The boxes were upright. The window was all the way open. The screen lay outside on the balcony in a twisted heap. Both cats stood on the balcony looking at me with wide yellow eyes.

Crap

I tear out of the bathroom into the bedroom and stop at the sliding glass door. Smoothly I open it and quietly step out. Ted is madly searching for a way off the balcony. I give my best deep voiced impression of my brother. Ted pauses but is not fooled. Lester remembers the turkey from earlier. He is torn between following his friend and coming to the lady promising him a nice treat. I stepped forward. Ted has found the sidewall where where my kitties climb up and down. He's down in a flash. Lester stares at me and then looks around the empty balcony. He starts to make a break for it but I lunge in time to catch him by the scruff. I hold him and helplessly watch Ted streak across the street and through the a neighbors yard and up the hill.

I lock up the escapee and take a look at the damage. Somehow they managed to completely open the heavy five foot window. Then somehow they twisted and the frame of the screen and lifted it out of the groove it locks into before knocking it out of the window frame onto the balcony. I stare in disbelief. I close the window tightly. I sigh and go back to bed. I'm too old for this nonsense.

In the morning at the yard sale there are many interested people asking about the free kitties sign. They admire Lester's beautiful coat and adorable mustache. But no one wants a full grown cat. I sigh. Apparently he's too old for this as well.

Dear brother takes the news of Ted's jailbreak better than I thought he would. Perhaps Ted has found a home or perhaps he's still own his way. I don't want to consider any other possibilities. Lester and another of one of my brother's brood are up for adoption through PetSmart. I am out of the adoption business and am getting my screen repaired.

First time blogging from a teacher

I have not a clue what to write about. As a wannabe writer I am merely following instructions: "You should have a blog." Okay, I am blogging. Now what? I can't very well give advice on writing as I only a beginner, or can I? I could write about teaching as I have done that part-time for a couple of decades. My favorite part about teaching is the books. Books filled with information, books filled with stories, big beautiful pictures, tiny little illustrations, all of it is so magical. My favorite part of the day is after lunch when I read aloud to them. And often we go over the time limit. "One more chapter,please" I often give in to their pleas. That is the best part of the teaching day.

Unfortunately, there's also the spitballs and wandering attention spans and fire drills and someone throwing up or needing to pee. In middle school there is the added bonus of rudeness being thrown at you because they, as grown twelve year olds, know so much better than you. So now I am trying to share books from the other side of the classroom door and of course, out of spitball range.

The greatest compliment a mother paid me once was that I taught her daughter to love reading. This was an especially impressive remark as the woman hated me at the beginning of the school year. I cannot remember why. You have to let those things slide off you or you become overwhelmed. But by the end of the year after acting out fairy tales and tall tales and using an assortment of insect voices in James and the Giant Peach, I had won over at least one soul to the magic of reading. And to boot, the mom not only put it in writing, she gave my principal a copy.
Writing is a way to touch more souls beyond the one classroom. Doesn't that sound heroic? Actually, it's plain fun and life is too short not to have fun.