Pee is Power

There is nothing like cat piss to snap you back to reality. Our lovely cat, Sheleata Kanoftuna, has taken to pissing in the hall. Now that wouldn't be so bad if we had hardwood floors like our last place. With sixy medium pile beige carpet, the piss stain is hidden to you step in the damp spot and the smell lingers like an unwanted house guest.

After a bit of internet browsing, I learned this is often an indication your kitty has a urinary tract infection. Painful pee ... ouch ... I figured it was time to take Sheleata to the vet.

Taking Sheleata to the vet is an adventure. Sheleata's not like the dogs, who make a dash to the car and then run in circles with child like excitement till you open the door. The last couple of trips to the vet the car rides were filled with the most horrific cat screams (thank god there is not a Department of Child and Family Services for pets, from the sound of Shealeta, they would have locked me up thinking I was beating him). If that wasn't bad enough, Sheleata would often piss and crap in his crate.

I managed to get to the vet with no peeing or pooping. I figured after the 13 hour trip from Atlanta to Chicago, perhaps Sheleata is over his fear of ridding in cars. Two days later, I was asked to pick up Sheleata from the vet. Yes, that's right, our cat, who freely pees in the hall, managed to hold his piss for two days. Mind you, the vet was quick to tell me that wasn't the record, but much longer than usual. My kitty is so special.

While waiting for Sheleata, I am called into the Principals office, err...the vets office, for a consultation. She proclaims Sheleata is healthy as can be and proceeds to ask me 20 questions about litter, general care, etc. I felt like I was being interrogated to find out if I was an abusive parent. I got the Okay and sent home, with Sheleata and some things to try. Our vet also mentioned, in a worse case scenario, I can try Prozac. I chuckled to myself and wondered if I should put the cat on a diet of booze and dolls; it would fit the neighborhood we live in.

During the car ride home, I discovered just how angry our precious Sheleata was about his two day visit to the vet. A few blocks from home, Sheleata turned around, shoved his but up to the crate gate and proceeded to piss like a race horse. I felt the warm liquid splatter and got a good wiff of the now familiar smell. I turned to see view the carnage.

Holly Mary Mother of God, Tim is gonna crap his pants when he sees the car. I pulled out my cell, and placed a 911 call home. "Be outside with rags and cleaning material" I barked, "Sheleata just pissed all over me and the car". After a thourough cleaning, there is no scent of piss. I'm certain no one will comment on the lingering new car smell.

Two days later, I ponder what to do as the mild smell of cat piss lingers in the air. Prozac for me, the cat or both of us ... well, at least I have health insurance.

Hot Hot Hot

We hit 102 degrees Fahrenheit yesterday ... Whew ... I thought I left the blazing hot weather down in Atlanta? As I step outside, sweat magically materializes in places that are just not proper to mention in public.

Lake Bluff 4th of July Parade is a "Thriller"

My thoughts sent to the Editor of the Lake Forester after attending the Lake Bluff, Illinois 4th of July Parade.

I attended the Lake Bluff 4th of July Parade for the first time this year. I was expecting a festive display, celebrating our Nations birthday. Instead, after seeing the Lawn Mower Brigade, I walked away wondering when our community lost its sense of decency and became so self-centered. Even the Lake Forester’s coverage is shocking, proclaiming “the lawn mower brigade mocked pop singer Michael Jackson, who just finished a lengthy trial on molestation charges.”

A mockery of Michael Jackson? This was far beyond that. The Lawn Mower Brigade’s display mocked the current issues of racism and child abuse, starting with Mr. Lydon Neumann stepping over the bounds of decency appearing in white face. I am not even able to fathom what he was thinking.

Then you bring on the rest of the brigade, wearing t-shirts proclaiming “Michael has touched us all” while pushing lawn mowers made to look like strollers. Mocking child abuse and molestation is not humorous on any level. I can’t even imagine what a current or recovering victim of child abuse, was feeling while watching these men make fun of what happened or is happening to them.

Now that the infamous Lawn Mower Brigade has thrust these subjects into the spotlight, I hope they will do something about the ongoing problem of child abuse and racism in our communities. Perhaps we all could use some sensitivity training and a few hours of volunteer work at a local chapter of Prevent Child Abuse America (http://www.preventchildabuse.org/) or another appropriate organization.

It’s time to be kind

Vices

At a recent party, a friend’s guest said to me, “I don’t know what to think of you. You don’t have any vices.”

I found this to be an odd statement and have been chewing on it the last few days. No vices … is that so bad, or does it make me some kind of bad or freaky person? Will people shun me if I don’t have a naughty vice to talk about? What am I to do?

Lord only knows I’ve given many of them a whirl … I tried drinking and found I don’t care for the taste of most beverages. I tried smoking and that was the same as drinking. I tried cigars but they gave me a hangover the next morning. Drugs…I decided a long time ago to just say no. Porn…I like that, but it gets a bit boring after awhile. Then there are the items I don’t plan to publish on the internet and well, been there, done that and all I got was a lousy t-shirt.

This afternoon I felt the weight of the world lift from my shoulders! I felt like I was a part of “in-crowd” as I sat gorging. I have a vice! Every week or so, I find some excuse to indulge. I fight the craving as long as possible, then I just give in. I scream for ice cream! Mind you, not just any ice cream will do. Some folks will only drink a specific beer, or vodka. I crave Cold Stone Creamery, made fresh, with it smooth creamy texture and my choice of fixings. My mouth waters at the thought.

Now I can share my vice at the next party. Describing how each flavor and fixing makes me tingle with delight (queue up the sexy romance novel music). How I savor each lick of creamy goodness, relieved to know I have a vice.