Posted on 11/26/2001 12:28:17 PM PST by SAMWolf
On the first day of Christmas, my kitten ruined for me........ A batch of my special hand-print cookies. I had turned my back to grab the cookie sheet sitting on the stove. In that micro-second, Sara climbed onto the table, poked her paw into the delightfully kneady mixture and, suddenly off- balance, fell into the cookie dough. Net loss? Six cups of flour, four cups of sugar, three sticks of butter.... Of course, it would have been cheaper to remove the feline ingredient, pick out the hairs, and just rename the recipe Paw Print Cookies.
On the second day of Christmas, my kitten accompanied me........ On a trip to the vet clinic. Who knew that skinny curling ribbon has feline taste appeal? I didn't. Damages: $28.00 for the office visit, $36.00 for anesthesia so the veterinarian could take $55.00 X-rays in case Sara had taste-tested any other Christmas decorations, and a heck of a lot of embarrassment when the vet removed the 3' curly tail in slightly less than two seconds by tugging at it with a pair of tweezers.
On the third day of Christmas, my kitten wrecked for me........ 13 ornaments on my Christmas tree. My mistake was forgetting to chain the decorations to the branches. My other error was leaving the room to go to the bathroom while Sara feigned sleeping under the tree. How was I to know she was actually measuring its climbing potential? Value of broken bulbs? $7.50 plus tax.
On the fourth day of Christmas, my kitten broke for me........ A statue in my Lenox Nativity. Would you believe two Wise men plus a head? Lenox nativity figurines: $55.99.
On the fifth day of Christmas, my kitten scratched for me........ The kid across the street who collects for charity. It was an accident. She merely wanted to reach out and touch someone. Unfortunately, she used a unsheathed claw to do so. I settled out-of-court for the cost of a jacket to replace the boy's blood stained one and a hefty donation to the charity of their choice. Although the amount must remain secret according to our settlement, let me put it this way. You haven't seen many soldiers for the Salvation Army this year, have you? Think: Major Windfall!
On the sixth day of Christmas, my kitten opened for me........ The presents beneath my Christmas tree. It was only two, really. While doing some early shopping at a discount store, I purchased a catnip mouse for Sara's stocking. Apparently, anything in the same bag as catnip takes on its potent aroma for a very long time. Replacement costs: $3.99 for another roll of Christmas wrapping paper, $4.50 for two empty boxes, $1 each for the kind of bows Sara can't unravel.
On the seventh day of Christmas, my kitten lost for me........ The earrings I bought for my sister Mary. Actually, it was one earring but since Mary doesn't have a hole in her nose or navel, a pair of matching earrings does make a more appealing gift. Sale price: $29.95 plus tax.
On the eighth day of Christmas, my kitten helped me........ Replace my E and G guitar strings. Would you believe a kitten could fit into the itty-bitty hole in the center of my Yamaha guitar? Neither could I, but Sara thought so. And she succeeded once she got those rascally strings out of the way. Unfortunately, her little rear end couldn't get out the way I came in. After paying through the whiskers for her previous escapades, I would have been willing to leave her in the guitar for the duration of the holiday season, except that she chose to get stuck two hours before I was due at the nursing home for our annual Christmas carol sing-a-long. Set of steel guitar strings: $12.95; jar of petroleum jelly: 79¢.
On the ninth day of Christmas, my kitten destroyed for me........ My Christmas card list when she walked across my computer's delete key. Cost for call to Computer Country's 900/help line: $17.50. And I still don't know what happened to the listings of B through H.
On the tenth day of Christmas, my kitten hid from me........ The remote control from my 13-inch TV. This wouldn't be such a disaster if she hadn't previously stolen the power knob. I missed a week's worth of Christmas specials, including my all-time favorite, "It's a Wonderful Life." Rental of "It's a Wonderful Life": $2.00; purchase of book, "Good owners, great cats": $24.95. Unfortunately, it never mentions the psychological profile of kittens with kleptomania.
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my kitten ate for me........ The drumsticks off my 19-pound turkey. OK, OK, So this one time it was my fault. I knew I never should have uttered those now infamous words: "Your first turkey, Sara. Want to try just a little piece?" Cost: Christmas Dinner.
On the twelfth day of Christmas........ Sara rested. And so, thank goodness, did my VISA card.
Please forgive me, but on an off subject, has anybody heard about the mother cat and her kittens found in the rubble after the WTC disaster? I was just thinking about that little family today. Thank you.
I haven't heard anything after the initial stories.
My cats take turn sleeping on top of my monitor as I am working. Maybe because it's warm. I don't remember where they parked themselves before I brought a computer home. Yes, we have lost documents as they take a stroll across the keyboard.
Edgar has learned the the Macintosh makes a WAY COOL sound when he presses the right button on the keyboard, but it's even more fun when he does it at 2 a.m. forcing me to get out of bed, wait until the ancient Performa finishes starting up (that takes five minutes) then shut it back down, unplug the thing and go back to bed.
I have a thousand other stories as well.
Especially SOME cats.
I used to breed Abyssinian cats. I had one female named Rascal, for reasons that will become apparent shortly.
Rascal was absolutely the most beautiful Aby I ever produced. Incredibly rich, deep color, perfect body.
Then, at age 4 months, she broke her leg whilst racing through the house with another cat (her Uncle). She knocked over a heavy guitar flight case, which landed on her leg and snapped the femur in half. Wound up with a pin sticking 3 inches out of her hip for a few weeks.
At 8 months, she started spraying. Female cats virtually NEVER spray. But Rascal did. So I had to get her spayed, in the hopes that that would stop it. And there went the opportunity to breed my most beautiful cat.
The spraying didn't stop. So even though my contracts for purchasing kittens said explicitly that cats bought from me were to NEVER go outside, Rascal became an outdoor cat. She was gorgeous to watch, bounding through the neighborhood. For those who don't know Abyssinians, they look a lot like baby mountain lions - same color, but deeper.
At a couple of years old, Rascal developed a strange triangular white shape INSIDE of her eye. An eye specialist was never able to determine definitively what it was, but we coerced it to go away, finally, with some expensive antibiotics.
At about 4 years of age, after a move, Rascal took to hanging out at the freeway rest area behind my house. Nothing I could do about it - she liked the attention. I would frequently get phone calls from some nice person concerning a "beautiful lst brown cat" when that person would pick her up and read the phone number on her collar. I'd just tell them to put her back down, her home was only 100 feet away, but thanks very much. I worried constantly about someone picking up - and keeping - a "free" Abyssinian, but they never did.
Finally, a nice person at the freeway rest area, who lived in another city in the same state as Rascal and me, recognized that she was, indeed, an Abyssinian, and took her home to be properly cared for. Obviously, she must have gotten loose from a car at the rest area or something, and they wanted to be sure she was OK. When they called, from home in the other city, I said I'd be right there - yep, she actually lived right behind the rest area, but thanks, your kindness is appreciated. And I went on a road trip to get her back.
About a year later Rascal somehow got on top of the neighbor's garage door while it was in the "up" position. When it came down, her leg got stuck between a couple of the metal bars, and her screaming probably scared my elderly neighbors half to death. They called, and went to get her. She was OK, but her leg DID swell up to about twice normal size.
Then there was the time she got stuck in the top of a tall tree.
Etc.
Rascal died four years ago at the age of 8 - really a pity, because cats can easily live to twice that, but rarely do when they're outside. She was hit by a car in a new neighborhood when I moved yet again. But she did have an exciting life. As did I. And she was a very loving, playful, beautiful, delight of a cat for 8 hair raising years :)
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