Monday, October 09, 2006
If Only They Were Still Small
First things first, the cats are fine.
Second things second, everything is fine.
When we went away for our anniversary, which I have never gotten around to talking about - it was fab, by the way - we dropped the cats off at Scott's parents' house for the weekend. They seemed to enjoy having them and offered to keep them a bit longer if we wanted.
They still have them.
It's actually only been a bit over two weeks that they've not been in our house, but our house has been so relaxed and calm since they've been away that I can't even fathom the tyranny the cats created when they were here. As of late, I've loved the house being:
-not covered in hair
-not covered in clawed-to-bits daily mail
-not covered in pieces of cat litter
I've loved keeping the doors to all the rooms open and not having to hoover every day (which I never did in the first place = yuck). I've enjoyed visiting the cats when I miss them, and then going home to a clean, fresh, etc etc house.
Furthermore, it's shown me how much easier life would be after the baby is born without cats. No cats jumping on sleeping baby, no cat hair clogging baby's respiratory system, no baby crawling on hairy floor, no baby finding her way into the cat food or litter box.... (I sure make our house sound inviting! Wanna come over for dinner?)
But it's come to decision time. The in-laws have had enough of cat-sitting. We've now got two options: 1) Take them back like good parents and 2) Give them a new home like horrible, evil bad parents.
It sounds so horrible that it's even a question!! I feel like a tyrant! What kind of sick, unfeeling, heartless, cruel woman wouldn't want her own precious kittens back in her home to love and cherish and feed treats??
I can barely even write about this. I feel so dispicable.
But I really am torn.
See, the cats? They don't miss us at all. In fact, they LOVE the in-laws' house. It's big and has a fireplace they can get into and then track black pawprints all over the floors. When we come to visit, they look at us blankly as if to say, "What? Do I know you?" It breaks my heart, I tell you, but it also reminds me that they will be happy wherever they go, as long as they've got servants to feed them, clip their nails and clean their poo. And give them a wee tickle on the tummy when they're in the mood for it. So I wouldn't be an evil person if I found them a new home, would I?
But then, I don't think I can part with them permanently. I miss them. I love them. We raised them from babies. I'm their mummy, Scott's their daddy. We saved them from the sad, lonely shelter. They were so cute and scared when we took them home, and we loved them into the little grown-up kitty-people they are today.
And, and, I love them, ungrateful little so-and-sos they may be.
Scott's pretty much leaving the decision up to me. I think he'd like to keep them. I think I would too. But am I ready to go back to messy messy when I've so been enjoying clean-so-clean? Am I ready to go back to stressing out about cats and little human-people trying to live in the same teeny tiny area? Am I ready for that horrible litter box to come back into my life?
Or do I turn my back on my sweet little kitties (who are really big obnoxious cats)?
I'm so distressed over this!
If only the cats would tell me what they'd prefer!
If only my house was bigger, and they could have their own room!
If only cats used the toilet!
If only babies didn't put cat toys in their mouths!
If only I were a sick, unfeeling, heartless cruel woman!