Rocky III

Rocky, the raccoon who visited me since December (and prior to that visited incognito) is back.

You know, it occurred to me last night, I might be visited by more than one raccoon. Even if that is true, I will continue referring to them all as ‘Rocky’. The little guy I saw last night did not have the swaggering attitude of the last raccoon that had come in, eaten, and was on his way out when I happened to look up and see him. This 'new' raccoon was timid and seemed afraid of me. Its little paw trembled as it stared at me, in an affecting manner. One thing is that all racoons visiting my home do stare at me as I stare at them. The critters seem amazed at the humongous THING, i.e., me, before them. They think I'm the giant guarding a treasure - CAT FOOD - as in some fairy tale.

The cat flap being gone now, this was the first time the raccoon just marched through the open cat door. It was a daring thing for the critter to do; the area in front the fireplace, nearby the French doors is piled high with junk I back-hoed out the rear of the house; a mattress, a steamer trunk, piles of bed sheets, a basket of sewing trimmings. Trust me, timid though he/she may have seemed, a raccoon that walks off a dark patio and into a well lit house that by raccoon standards, reeks of cats and human scent and is full of foreboding piles of stuff is no diminutive and timid little forest critter. Maybe the paw trembling was old Rocky debating if he should just ignore the fat human and continue his investigations.

Progress in Periwinkle

I like to imagine one or two who have read my blog, have forgiven me on the kitty abandonment issue. I thank you for your compassion and will now continue nattering on with my little daily revelations, daily concerns and introspective bull.

Am thrilled; took two days off work so I could paint the final frontier otherwise known as my junk room/future bedroom. The room is 50% painted and trimmed.

Late this morning after a painting session I stood in the hallway and came to the shocking conclusion; despite all my efforts at variety, I inadvertently painted the both back bedrooms the same color. Both are periwinkle or blueish lavender. I would have sworn they were different but it would take DNA paint swatches to tell the rooms apart now. The main difference is the new bedroom has pale yellow trim, the guest room trimming is a pale lavender. Boogers.

I've moved all the junk out into the living room in front the fireplace for a M.A.S.H. style junk triage. The big question is how long will the crap sit junking up the front room before I donate/toss the floatsome & jetsome? I'm hoping now the junk is no longer 'out of sight, out of mind' and is hidden in plain sight the clutter - which makes me crazy - will be just the auspicious kick in the arse needed to move me towards a junk-free state. If I am wrong about my motivation to ditch the junk then I suppose I will begin proceedings on obtaining a landfill operator's license. How lucky for me that I work at CalEPA headquarters.

Confessions of Kitty Abandonment

Bless me Father for I have sinned.

Five days in a row I lay trying to sleep at night, all the while imagining imaginative way to garrote, suffocate, hang, pound (you get the general idea) a cat that marched up and down in my back yard yowling at the moon. You see – the cat was my cat, Kola.

For the 11^th year in a row I managed to resist the temptation to do the fuzzy little beast in but this week, after the fifth night in a row of falling fitfully asleep only to wake and wake again to caterwauling, I caved. I took Kola and locked him in a kitty carrier in the garage. Next morning I took him to the animal night drop box at the Sacramento County Animal Regulation offices. I filled out the paper slip & willingly gave all of my info - my name, address, phone number and information about Kola, such as that he is neutered & his shots and even his flea protection is up to date. Then I left. With Kola gone, the remainder of my day felt like a wonderful & jolly holiday.

This morning I got a call from Animal Control asking if I would come down to fill out paperwork for Kola so he could be released for adoption. When I got to the place one of the county agents was quite surprised.

‘I understand a pet getting on your nerves and giving it up after maybe a year, but waiting eleven years to give him up? I don’t get it.’

I told him Kola was not ‘my cat’ exactly. Kola belonged to my dog Chiquilla & I had long vowed if Chiquilla died before Kola did, Kola was going to be out on his furry arse. Two years ago Chiquilla broke my heart when her life ended. For the sake of her memory I managed to stall dumping Kola for two long, nerve wracking years. Then this past week, no surprises, my patience gave out. I was either going to strangle Kola and achieve the first symptom of serial killers – murdering small animals - or I was going to have to get rid of Kola.

‘He’s not a bad animal,’ I insisted, ‘it’s just that we never got along. He’d make a very sweet pet – for someone else.

The man said, ‘If you don’t mind my asking, what does he do? That cat had me laughing, and he was yowling all night.’

‘The yowling is only part of it,’ I said, ‘He does a thousand things that drive me crazy, and not the least of it is he loves raping my other cat Rum, whom I love. Honestly, the kitty rape scenes are driving me mental.’

The guy’s eyes widened but he kept his thoughts to himself.

I think I came across as a bit eccentric, but what do I care, that #@&#*ing bastard Kola is gone! I am very near to deliriously happy.

So, in short, this morning I filled out all the necessary paperwork and even paid the required $40 relinquishment fee to turn Kola over to the county. The fee seems counter productive to me because all it probably does is prompt people to abandon their pets on the streets or refuse to claim former ownership of the animals which means the creatures are not put up for adoption, and are held & then, unclaimed by the person who abandoned them - they could be put down, but at a profit.

I wish Kola the best of luck. I would bet the farm he will easily pass the psychological testing required of animals that are put up for adoption. He is older and in this kitteny time of year that won't help his odds at adoption, but who knows - with the sort of luck that restrained me from strangling him all these years, maybe some cat loving soul will adopt him and he'll have a few more years of being someone else’s pet. And if not, well at least he had 11 good years.

Color me, deliriously happy Kola is gone.