Dear friends,
Many of you have heard me liken being the rector of St. Dunstan’s to herding cats, which is true. I quickly add that I love cats. This week the cats, the actual four-legged variety, have gotten the best of me. We all could use a little levity these days, so I bring you this week’s Crazy Cat Chronicles, a story in three parts.
Part One — The Home Crew
I am having work done at the house this week. Tuesday the plan was to rip the carpet out of my bedroom and the upstairs hall and put down hardwood floors. I decided it was best to lock all four cats up in the basement. Have you ever tried to round up four cats and put them all in the same room? The first one was not a problem. The second one was okay. I got the third one and tried to open the basement door just enough to squeeze him through. You may see where this is going. As soon as the door was cracked, the two in the basement busted through and escaped. I repeated this fun process a couple of more times. By that time none of them would let me anywhere near them. If this were a scene in a movie I’d have tears of laughter rolling down my face. But in the moment it was tears of stress, as I cursed my mother for dying and leaving me with her two cats, and Joe for dying and leaving me to deal with things like this alone. I’m laughing now, and grateful no video exists of this failed operation.
Chronicles, Part Two — The Church Cat
When I went to the parking lot yesterday afternoon Beppe was sunning himself on top of my car. I honked the horn a few times to make him get off, then started backing up. I realized I could not see him anywhere. I stopped and got out. He was still on the top of the car, and wouldn’t get down. I slowly drove another 20 feet or so and got out. He was still there. I drove a little further. Same thing. He was sitting on the middle of the roof, at its tallest point, and I could not reach him. He was enjoying the ride and had no interest in getting off. Finally, he started slowly creeping across the car. When he got closer I reached out to grab him and he hissed and swatted at me, angry that the joy ride was over.
Chronicles, Part Three — The Home Crew Again
My bedroom is still a wreck, so I’m sleeping in the guest room. Last night I sat on t had he bed — and it collapsed. Someone(s) had torn the boxspring lining to make a hole large enough for three boy cats to hide in. But when they all got in, right above the slats, the slats broke. Instead of three slats holding the bed up, there is now one. How do I know it was the three boy cats? Because when I got home those three were in the closed guest room. They must have been hiding in there and the contractor, not knowing that, closed the door. So last night we all slept (or in my case didn’t sleep) on the couch. The contractor assures me I will be able to sleep in my fully slatted bed tonight.
The Cat Herders
This funniest commercial of all time pretty much sums up my life this week. “Being a cat herder is about the toughest things I’ve ever done.”
Finally, today is Joseph Henry’s 24th birthday. His birthday wish was to hang out with me at the Braves’ game. First pitch is coming up soon. We’ll be there, eating hot dogs. And hoping to see no cats.
With love,
Tricia