Disclaimer: This is not a religious doctrine you are about to read and is not intended to offend anyone. Further, if you are offended please feel free to peruse any number of the other blogs Blogger has to offer instead of e-mailing me your thoughts as honestly, I don't care to hear them-this is my blog, my small part of the 'interwebs' to use as I see fit and funny. Thanks.
So this morning, my kitten Anju comes to my side of the bed and utters something in Cat as he does most mornings. Kittens are essentially kids that give you less hassle and don't wear designer duds. So, me being the uber-attachment-parenting-guru-mom veteran that I am, rise, pop open a can of putrid fish parts, divvy it up in the two kittens' bowls and retreat back to my warm bed with large furry spouse. I'm not sure how much time passed before Anju returned and this time I swear, in my mind I had this conversation, "Fucking cat! You know what, I'm just going to bury my head in the crevice of Joe's back, avoid eye contact (they see very well in the dark) and pretend not to hear him...I'm sick of this shit and why doesn't anyone else ever get up in the middle of the night and see what the hell these cats want...I know I'm not the only one that hears this shit." Again, in the uncertainty of semi-consciousness I cannot tell you how much time lapsed before Anju returned. This time I swing the 2 quilts back (I'm anemic.) and stomp (keyword: stomp-it will become integral as the parable moves on) to the foyer, summon Anju as I glance over to the still existing putrid fish parts, I snatch him up from the floor. Still stomping, and partially awake I make my way through the laundry room and to the garage when suddenly I step...pardon stomp-amidst the icy concrete in something soft and about 97.6 degrees. (Why that number? Well, it is an estimate of my body temp at this stage of rest). Simultaneously, half clad teenager arises from his room (bare nipples are prohibited unless nursing infant is attached) and says in a rote tone, "You smelled it too?" It was at that moment that I did smell it and break from my semi-conscious state upon the realization that I am: a) holding a shitty pawed kitten and: b) standing in his not mustardy, soft, yellow shit! After I let out a series of expletives that I totally wish I could remember because I'm sure they were blog-worthy, I commenced to drag my shitty (but soft, you so gotta try Pro-Foot Heel Rescue cream) foot across the frigid concrete and look helplessly for something, anything other than my good towels or table linens to clean this shit off my foot. I continue to smudge; stench ever increasing, and finally I make my way, stepping lightly, to my closet where I grab a torn (albeit super soft that I had no plans of parting with) towel, Joe's tee and Jordan's old shorts. I then retreat to the garage, stare at the shit for a bit and devise a plan. I look over my shoulder and catch-sitting atop the craft bins, a brand new compass sealed in shiny plastic and a hard cardboard backing. In the mind of a creative genius (or just plain crazy person) this transforms to the ultimate shit scooping device. I grab the uncovered litter box, scoop-with my ingenious tool some fresh litter from the top and in Cold Stone Creamery fashion begin to work the litter into the wretched kitten shit until I have gotten it to a scoop-able consistency. I then dump it into the cat box take the entire cat box to the trash bin, dump it, retreat to the kids' bathroom (smile) clean out the offensive box then to the garage to bleach and scrub the cold concrete and finally, to the kids bath again for the Silkwood shower finale.
Where is the parable you ask? It lies in the fact that all of this could have been avoided if I'd just stopped to listen. Every inhabitant of this planet has a message and as the most massive destructive force yes, Homo-sapiens Destroyers of the Universe- Said inwardly, in the He-Man Masters of The Universe narrator dude's voice.-tend to ignore the simplest, messages. Day after day I see and hear crying infants and toddlers who are not being tended to or written off as just spoiled, folks are euthanizing and otherwise neglectfully abandoning pets for "misbehaving"...I watch as food is wasted, thrown in the trash, dismissed as "fat" or "I don't like white/dark meat", etc. These creatures are/were part of this universe too. He too, my shitty little Anju, had a mission, a purpose, a message. As a sensitive person I tend to feel messages with a highly tuned fork if you will. This was a refresher course for me. I'm totally pissed with Anju for overeating to the point where he would shit on the floor, and he shall be dealt with for his gluttony, but I've also been reminded that the little furry guys speak too and it isn't that we cannot understand, but choose to ignore. Before I wrap this up with something totally hysterical I'll give you part one of my admonishment for 2008. Ready? Ok-Clears throat in head and rubs hands together in preparation. "Slow down, listen, think, feel. Then, think again and finally... react". You got it? Okay, good.
Now, for the finale. Cat owners reading this know hell hath no fury greater than the odor of kitten shit. So, for me, for 2008; even if it is just once, I want you to trade your present pox with the following: When someone cuts you in line, cuts you off on the road, takes your parking space, steps on your toe, your boss gets on your last good nerve-whatever it is I want you to say this, "Go step in (feel free to substitute eat, you smell like et al.) hot kitten shit" I know that cat shit rolls more freely with its mono-syllabicism (I totally made that word up-but it works), but there is no greater peril to be bestowed upon man than the funk of kitten shit, particularly at 4:00 am while barefoot and semi-conscious. So, do it for me, I'm certain you'll be glad you did!
Epilogue: (e-pi-log, not, e-pee-luh-goo)
I'm terrible about blogging, truly I am. Namely, because there is so much going on in my daily operations (I took that from Will.I.Am...it's a line from his re-mix of Mas Que Nada with Sergio Mendes, I love that song) that anything which isn't totally necessary and even some things that are, get pushed to the bottom of my "To do:" list which is ironically the very top of my "To do Another Time List". I am going to take baby steps, however. This year to rid my mind of these frivolous rantings, I shall make the world a better place through blogging. I will commit myself to blogging a minimum of once per week. If you are out there reading, drop a comment to motivate me, send me an e-mail (see disclaimer) call me if you know the number. Winks. This is not a New year's resolution-I don't believ in them, but rather a daunting task that must alas be executed.
And lastly, (the coffee is kicking in now) tell someone you love them and throw them an air kiss if you aren't in close proximity. I don't mean your regular host of people who already know you love them, "Honey bunches of oats with almonds!" (Don't ask) I mean, someone you probably haven't told in forever or someone to whom you've said it to never. My girlfriend Roxanne-totally off subject in one of our e-mail correspondences- slipped in an "I luv you Meka. Muah" It totally made my day. You never know when someone has stepped in hot kitten shit at 4:00am...surely they could use a message of love and hope. Have a peaceful New Year! I love you, mwah!