Strudel saw the ice cream, and she was determined to do something about it. She already had several strikes against her: copious backchatting, had written hers AND her sister’s names on the stairwell wall near the entryway, ate something mysterious due to goofing around (“I don’t know what it was, it just fell into my mouth when I was laying down!” [??? !!!]), extra servings of whining for everyone. So, dig if you will THAT picture.
“Can I have some of that ice cream after dinner?” she asked, like the adorable cherub she is not.
“No,” I said.
“WHY?”
I am tired of WHY. I am tired of the entitled, hostile edge it has. Shields up, engage torpedoes, it says.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” I said, thinking quickly. “You give me reasons why I said ‘no.’ If you guess right in three tries, you get a high five!”
She was quiet for a moment, mulling this over. And then she started guessing.
“Is it because I had a treat earlier?” she asked.
“Mmm, keep guessing.”
“Is it because I wrote on the wall?”
“Those are very good guesses,” I said. “HIGH FIVE!”
“Hmmmph,” Strudel said.
***************
“Get ready for bed,” P. said.
“DAD I need to get a DRINK of WATER,” she said.
“FATHA I am not done being difficult yet!” I said, in my melodramatic British Jane Eyre boarding school melodramz voice.
“Fatha, I have not completely destroyed your life yet,” he said.
“Are you guys SARCASSING ME?”
In Other News
Things I have made this weekend not from this century: fried oysters, apple tourte, a good short crust, Brown Gravy, leg of lamb filled with forcemeat, and four pounds of sausage. I am about halfway there. Tomorrow is ALMOND DAY, OMG ALMOND DAY. I cannot wait for this month to be over, and not because of the cooking. I just need to get over this October hump (not yet over the October humpING).
Nietzsche is kind of falling apart. I woke up to poop and pee in various places in the house, and a few spots of vomit. She’s under veterinary supervision, of course, but she’s 15 and her kidneys are going, and there’s the whole hypothyroid thing that she’s being treated for, so I know we’re coming to the end soon.
She is one of the only things I have from before I was married a zillion years ago. I feel like she’s some relic from the past, in which I envision some more undiluted or Platonic version of myself. Before I was all dented and dinged and made peace with the dents and dings, and now wait for more dents and dings, before I got slapped with labels like mother, “divorcee” (hee hee, cannot type that without laughing), “could have been,” before I was fired from jobs, ruined friendships, before I realized that family is not synonymous with “forever.”
My tiny little black ball of fur and energy was all potential then, too. We were both dumb kids together. Before her misguided declawing that I let my stupid roommate pressure me into, before HER dents and dings and moves through several states and before she lost all her little kitty homies one after the other to death and divorce, before I betrayed her by squeezing out two little feral hoodlums to make her life a living hell by pulling her tail and putting bonnets on her and the biggest crime of all, interrupting her sixteen hours of sleep a day.
I think her death’s going to be the end of some big chapter in my life, layered and crossfiled with all the other chapters. The worst part is, I think I’m going to have to write the end of it.
first you make me laugh and then you make me cry. I’m sorry. And that is all I can say about that because I know how it is.
Thanks. We ALL know how it is, which helps and doesn’t, ey?
She’s difficult, but she’s kinda cute ;)
So sorry about your kitty :( We went thru this last year with our own black ball of fuzz….who was also a remnant from my old life, around since before I’d even met my husband.
Read the funny bits out loud to my hubby… then told him about the kitty
Him “Awwww! I declare not fair!!!”
Kitties are wonderful creatures, I’m sorry to hear about yours.
Sorry about your kitty. :( Reading what you wrote made me realize that is how I feel about my dogs- they are pre-everything, and they are getting up there and I will feel exactly the same way. You are an awesome writer, you made me feel exactly how I didn’t know that I was feeling (if that makes sense…) which I think is exactly what the best writers do.
I’m very sorry. I will be thinking of and sending good thoughts towards kitty.
SO HARD. I feel for you, I always say, “never again” and then have to have a kitty in my life. N has had a long, great life despite it all. AND how dare you would I disparage your roots oh wait. You look great, Mama!
Thanks, everyone. This is such a universal yet personal thing to the point where writing about it becomes intensely painful yet completely banal at the same time. I appreciate the nice thoughts, though, for sure.
Dorrie, I kid because I know a couple of years ago you ribbed me about my roots before I went to Blogher. Well, guess what, I am growing it out, so prepare for another couple of months of dag looks. :D
OH I KNOW I totes remember, girl. And whoa on you growing it out. I am here for you!
Dear I, Asshole,
Your post, she makes me sad. It is partly because I’m very emotional these days (last minute baby hormones attempting to manipulate me into having sex with any warm body of the opposite sex with viable sperm). Partly because you have big things happening!
Your kitteh is entering her final days.
Your Franny is 520 weeks old.
You’re growing out yer hairs?
Who is this?
And, yet, after reading your blog so faithfully lo these 6 years, I know you will come through it all, and you’ll are quite likely to share your hard-won wisdom with your readers with wit and charm. Which is why I <3 thee timeth a million.
I'm sending Nietzsche some helpful Reike vibes from Brooklyn.
Tell Nietzsche that my Bunny-cat gives her an ancient-cat high-five. He is 18, I have had him since I was 19 years old, zomg. He is deaf and blind and follows me around the house HOWLING for food, and you know, I see the end there somewhere, and I know that’s going to be a decision I’m going to have to make, it’s not like he’s gonna shuffle off in his sleep and make it easy on me. Sheeeesh, what an asshole, amirite? That said, Old Cat Sisterhood. Pour a little out for our homies.
Do you cry when you write? …because sometimes I cry when I read what you write. Some of the time, I laugh out loud, followed up with laughing so hard I cry. Your last few writings, however, were read in silent tears. Thank you for posting your work. Please don’t ever stop writing. You are very good at it (and apparently many, many other things!).
…and an aftersay:
I wrote my previous comment before reading the others (did not want to be influenced by anything someone else may have said to you), but I see that a lot of folks that have the same reactions to your work. After reading about your black fur ball, I wiped the tears away, swiveled my chair around and saw my own black fur ball staring up adoringly at me. Made me take pause/paws and bask in kitty love with both myfurry cohorts in life…who I will likely outlive, but maybe not, then what becomes of them? Got lost in thought, born of your words. Thank you, again, for these writings.
That’s interesting you should ask. Yes, I did cry while I was writing about my cat. Catharsis. Oh dear, that’s almost a pun. :/ Thanks for the kind words.
Catharsis indeed…your words capture(d) your feelings/the moment well. It is hard to know what is best sometimes. Nietzsche knows you love her…and will let you know when she’s had enough. Keep those years of happy memories in the forefront…remember her as she was in her stronger years…that spirit still remains. Thanks, again, for so many joyous reads! … and for sharing some very real stuff.