Farewell to the Best Cat Ever

Miko (2006 – 2021)

My cat died. Miko was a glorious/beautiful/amazing Russian Blue.)

Rather than go on about how utterly devastated I am (the tears come without warning), I started writing down some of my memories of him so that I wouldn’t forget him. Like I ever could. Hopefully you get a sense of just how much he meant to me and even though he was “just a cat”, anyone who’s ever owned a pet that they loved like a family member understands how painful it can be to lose it.

What I remember about you, Miko. You:

• Were so chill, the minute Mom met you and picked you up as a tiny kitten, you rested on her forearm and immediately fell asleep (your sister, Peggy Sue, was having a conniption fit with a granola bar wrapper and running around like a maniac) – you were the right choice

• Cried in the carrier on the drive from the cattery, but the minute Mom took you out of the carrier and held you on her chest, you fell asleep and never made a peep during the 3-hour drive home

• Loved your “fridge mice” — investigating the freezer when the ice cubes dropped

• Jumped inside the fridge or freezer any chance the door was left open too long because it was such a novel change in temperature for you

• Loved sunning yourself in any bright spot, but mostly on window ledges (much better once I got the Kitty Cot so you didn’t roll off after you’d fallen asleep). You even would fall asleep on the phone if it was on the window sill and convenient

• If someone leaned over, you jumped up on their back

• Loved to nuzzle Dad’s head standing on the back of the couch while he was watching TV

• Loved to sit or lie on anything anyone was reading or using so that they didn’t forget you were there and wanted lovins

• Jumped up into Mom’s arms when she called you (and sometimes when she didn’t – surprise!)

• Loved to head butt and nuzzle Dad’s beard

• Loved to head butt and nuzzle Mom’s forehead

• Loved it when Mom nestled the top of your head below her chin and in the crook of her neck

• Learned to use the City Kitty in 30 days, never having to use a litter box again; sometimes you’d wait for Mom to come in and, if you were done, you especially liked to let us know so that we’d congratulate you

• Liked to sleep upside down or in the strangest positions on Mom, often playing with her hair or her nose or whatever was available

• Knew when you shouldn’t be on the table, when caught you’d meow in a special apologetic tone like, “sorry, I know”

• Would lead mom towards the microwave because you knew the drawer underneath contained all the good treats, especially the gravy pouches she’d give you

• Were especially tolerant of Mom carrying you around on her hip like a toddler, you never minded and just let her cart you around

• Found a way to investigate any box, no matter the size, ignoring your more expensive toys completely

• Knew when we were not feeling good and you stayed by our side

• Seemed to like to torture Karl and the more he avoided you, the more you enjoyed bugging him (and chewing on him) – no one else, just him

• Had to investigate and sniff any new thing: flowers, food, boxes, stuff

• Loved to be held and snuggled, napping in the lap of Mom or Dad was your favorite place

• Liked to chase after anything on a string; you were less interested in laser pointers

• Didn’t mind the millions of times Mom took pictures of you, you were game

• Loved to sleep on Dad’s black blanket between his legs when watching TV

• As a kitten, you’d sleep in the crook of Mom’s arm (she never slept lest she move you and, gasp, you become “uncomfortable”)

• Thought Dad’s feet were an amusement park ride and got yourself kicked out of the bedroom at night (Mom never cared so you never attacked her toes)

• Learned how to walk on a leash, but we had to stop taking you out because you started camping the door

• Didn’t mind Mom pressing your paw pads ever since you were a kitten so that she’d get you used to getting your nails clipped (though you never were a fan of that)

• Jumped in luggage and made yourself comfortable (making us feel even more guilty if we were heading out of town for a few days)

• Ignored us when we returned from a trip for an hour or so, then you stuck to us like glue to make sure we were sticking around

• Had the most delightful cat breath

• Stuck out your tongue, just a little

• Had the title Prince Miko because you were treated like royalty

• Other titles: Mikolicious, Meeks, Buddy, My Little Man

• Were very chill and tolerant of strangers, though slightly aloof, but you were very gentle and loving with the family (that’s why Mom picked a Russian Blue)

• Loved to play tag and would run past Mom and “tap” her leg as you ran by

• Loved play hide and seek with Mom – if she was hiding – and you saw that she was hiding, you were all in to find her (made her squeal with surprise a few times, too, because you were the better player)

• Were not at all a fan of baths and nearly flayed Mom the one time you fell into the toilet as a kitten and she tried to bathe you

• Were a fan of catnip as you got older and Mom has the video to prove it

• Would jump up on the arm of the couch by the door waiting for Mom to come in, ready to greet her at the door

• Loved any kind of bag, mostly for crawling inside

• Were just as happy sitting on a garbage bag as a cardboard box

• Your favorite place was sleeping in warm laundry either on the couch or in the basket

• Knew you shouldn’t jump up on the counter and ignored Dad entirely, but when Mom yelled at you, you jumped down and hopped over to her to say “hi” (hoping she’d forget what you just did – she didn’t, but she gave you lovins anyway)

• Liked to “interrupt” Mom when she was in the bathroom because the door didn’t lock without effort. Dad was always locking you out, but Mom didn’t care. You just stood up on your hind legs and pushed the door open and said hi as you strolled in

• The closest you ever got to water willingly was jumping up on the ledge of the bathtub and wandering back and forth between the cloth and the plastic while Mom was having showers

• Loved drinking the dripping water from the faucet after Mom had a shower

• Insisted that Mom or Dad ran the water in the bathroom sink so you could take a sip (you’d sniffle until you got your head placement just right)

• Would literally “walk” up Mom’s legs with your claws until Mom picked you up

• Liked to sit with Mom while she read, patiently waiting until she was situated, and then you’d hop up and she’d maneuver you between the arm of the couch and her, with her arm around you so she could hold you and still be able to focus on what she was doing

• Didn’t mind being held like a baby in Dad’s arms; you’d look up at him and gently pat his beard with your paws

• Came when Mom called you, just like a dog, yet at a more leisurely pace

• Never liked people food “at all” until you got older, then we’d catch you sneaking up on the counter to lick the bacon fat spoon, or anything else that was remotely savory, and unprotected on the counter

• Could get into drawers and cupboards so we had to “child-proof” the kitchen and bathroom

• You loved to sleep on Mom’s hip if she slept on her side, between her legs if she was on her back, or happily crash on her chest

• Were not at all a fan of the cat stroller Mom tried to get you used to (she hoped to take you on walks and hikes), but you were not having any of it – you preferred to stay home

• The few times you ran out the door (you’re an indoor cat) you didn’t get further than the fence, you didn’t know what to do with yourself

• Were inordinately interested in the smell of Ben-Gay and would seek it out like a bloodhound if Mom or Dad was wearing some on sore muscles

• Had the uncanny knack of being right where Mom and Dad’s feet wanted to land as you walked in front of us, garnering yourself the nickname “Miko Underfoot”

• Never listened to Dad when he told you “no”, but you listened to Mom

• Loved to get brushed and all Mom had to do was pick up the brush, say “Brush?”, and you’d leap over to the arm of the couch, no matter what you were doing (even if you were contentedly laying in Dad’s lap) for some brushing

• Loved to lead Mom where you wanted her to be, you’d walk just a bit ahead and casually look back, making sure she was following you correctly (to the food, to the treats, to the bathroom so she could see your grand deposit and flush on your behalf)

• Didn’t mind laying on your back and letting Mom rub your tummy (most cats would flay if someone tried that)

• Loved your tailbone (just before your tail) scratched; it made your tail curl

• You meowed after you used the toilet because you wanted credit for it. That was Mom’s fault, she congratulated you (if she was nearby) each time you did, so you got into the habit of expecting it and were none too pleased if your successes were not rewarded with pats and kisses and “Good jobs”, which they ended up being once you got our attention

• Received about 50 kisses a day from Mom when she held you, you tolerantly and patiently (and with much purring) accepted them all

• You liked to look at Mom and she’d look back, then slowly blink, telling you she loved you. And you’d blink slowly right back

• Loved clean warm laundry; you always smelled so fresh when Mom hugged and kissed you afterwards

CitiKitty Diaries: The Toilet Training Saga

Miko

This is the daily record of how I toilet trained my cat, Miko.  It just goes to show you that I need a life and my cat is dang awesome.  (I really do wish I had done this years ago.)

Tools:

I used  CitiKitty Cat Toilet Training Kit from Amazon (about $30.00) to toilet train my cat.  The inserts, while perforated, are a pain in the arse to remove.  I suppose that is a good thing since you don’t want them breaking while your cat is standing on them.   I ended up using an x-acto knife.  It’s basically like opening any toy sealed in hard plastic from Toys R Us so prepare to be annoyed.

Preparation:

I must have read the CitiKitty instructions fifteen times.  I also felt the need to order a book on how to toilet train your cat.  Talk about over-prepared.  I taped the toilet seat up and left this sign right above the toilet:

Cat Toilet Training in Progress

Day 1

I placed Miko in the cat litter on the toilet seat and he went pee right away.  He spent a good 5 minutes covering, but not overly exuberant with his pawing.  He really liked the catnip in his litter.  Tried to eat it (before he went pee).

Just fed him so we shall see how he takes to pooping with less litter.  I’m trying not to hound him and trying to clean up quick after him so it’s a clean area without smell.

Still waiting on Miko to go poop.  He’s not taking the bait.  Maybe I should shake him a little.  Just kidding.  Guess we will see when he really needs to go.  It’s after midnight and I need sleep so not while I’m awake, apparently.

Day 2

Two pees and no poops.  Getting a bit stressed over that.  He’s been eating and I have plopped him on the seat a few times and given him plenty of praise and affection, but either he’s holding it or he just doesn’t have to go yet.

He’s a real smart cat and it’s hard not to expect a lot from him.  I just need to remind myself to take it super slow.

Already 9:27 pm so I may miss the poop if it happens.  I’ll most likely be asleep.  I keep the doors closed so no pooping in our laundry.

Nate used the bathroom and put the CitiKitty tray down, but not the toilet seat.  If Miko had jumped up and that tray went flying training would have been over before it even started.

Luckily, Miko didn’t use the bathroom and I caught it first.

Day 3

Wheww!!  Guess what I woke up to?  Poops!  I’ve never been so glad to see my cat take a dump!   Right spot, no accidents, and me not around.

I had barely cleaned the seat and put new litter in his tray when he hopped up, interrupting me, and went pee.  Ohthankgoodness.

Ron and I went out to dinner and when we got back, there was a pee present waiting so that was cool.  Yes, I’m obsessed with my cat’s bowel movements.

Day 4

The cat didn’t have a surprise for me this morning, but after an hour or so of me being awake, he went pee with no problems.  Still waiting on a poop, though.  Seriously, I think he’s doing this to me on purpose.

Before noon, after he meowed at me, I wandered past the bathroom and he’d left a big present exactly where he should have.

And he discovered where I left the Ziploc bag of catnip and proceeded to attack it, trying to get it open.  But not after jumping in the garbage can, which was where I mistakenly put the wrapper that held aforementioned catnip before putting it in the Ziploc.

I’ve since put the catnip in a sealable container and far away in my office.  It looked like someone had stashed a bag of weed in my bathroom drawer so that is probably a good thing.

Almost midnight and looks like no more bathroom trips for Miko before I hit the hay.  I’m pretty sure there will be a surprise waiting for me in the morning, though.

Day 5

Woke up to a big pee this morning. Not too much litter on the floor either.

Another big pee just before 1.

No other activity for the rest of the day.

Day 6

Well, there was a nice big poop waiting for me this morning (where it should be) and a surprise on the couch.  The cat threw up all over Ron’s side.  So I think he was saying he still loves me best (not puking on my side), but that he’s not above barfing any place he likes.  Mental note:  teach cat to puke in toilet.  Anyway, it looked pretty gritty so I think it was due to me putting catnip in Miko’s litter.  He goes so crazy for it, I guess he was chewing down on litter, too.  So that’s bad.  Pretty glad we got leather couches and not suede.

So, no more cat pot, I guess.  He’ll just have to make do with plenty of praise from me.  Which he got.

As I was cleaning up, he hopped up on the sink and watches me and, again, the new litter isn’t down more than a minute before he’s on there going pee.  So I think he holds it while waiting for a fresh bit.  There’s probably not enough litter in his mind to do a second run.  It is an adjustment, I’ll admit.

And I’m real glad I’m home to pay attention to what he’s doing and clean up quickly afterward to keep it as pleasant as possible for him.

I remove one of the inserts on Sunday so it will be interesting to see how he handles it.

Day 7

Woke up to a big pee.

Cleaned his tray and had a back-to-back pee/poo presents.

He did a jump from the sink counter to the toilet tray, which was interesting.  Won’t be doing that in a few weeks unless he’s looking for a bath.

But so far this week no accidents so looks good for the next phase tomorrow.

Tomorrow we open up the first hole and see how that goes.  (Nail biter!)

I can’t imagine he will go again today, but he may later on tonight.

Day 8

Present waiting as usual.  Go, Miko!  So I cleaned up and as we were getting ready for church, I cut out the first insert and hope and prayed Miko would use the toilet before we had to leave so I could monitor and praise as needed.

He checked it out and spent a good five minutes peering into the hole.  I’m like, “Great job, sweetie, it’s a hole now pee in it!”  Before I stressed him and myself out I patted him several times, cooed at him, then left.  And sat in the living room with one ear trained on the bathroom.  Since all other doors were closed, when he wandered that way again I was on high alert.

Down to the WIRE!

I hear the familiar moving of litter for, like, ever.  Finally, he comes out and gives a quick meow.  I don’t know if that means, “Look at what I did!!” Or “Look at what you are making me do!”

I went in and saw most of the litter was gone.  I’m all, “Uh-oh…” I had read about a cat that just kicked all the litter into the toilet and just didn’t go.  Not exactly conducive to successful potty training.  So I started to refill it and, as an afterthought, put my hand in the litter and sure enough a small clump.  He’d peed!  Most of it must have gone into the hole (my boy has some aim on him!), but there was a bit.  I was so proud!  (Okay, I get that it’s kind of gross to put my hand on top of the used litter, but how else was I to know?  I washed ’em.)

No poops yet so we will see how that goes.

Near midnight and only the one trip to the bathroom that I mentioned earlier.

Day 9

Woke up to poops and a pee in Miko’s litter.  He’d pawed his litter enough that just the poop was sitting there right on top, but nothing was on the floor.  Go, Miko!  I was so proud.  If I could high-paw him, I would.  Maybe I’ll teach him that next.

Again, he went pee shortly after I changed his litter.

Day 10

Oops.  I slept in.  Nate had flushed the toilet so I don’t know if Miko had wicked good aim or just didn’t poop.

I did clean up when I got up and heard him meowing in the bathroom, but I couldn’t tell if he’d gone potty or just kicked his litter through the hole, freaked out, and gave up.

I guess time will tell on that.  Got my eyes peeled.

Okay he went.

Big pee and most through the hole.  A little later he went poop with me right there and all but one poop made it through the hole.  He was a bit put off by the sound of poops going to the water, but it didn’t deter him and he didn’t freak out by the sound.  Nothing like a hysterical cat running through the house, terrified, pooping along the way!

Wheeeeeeww.

Day 11

Bit more stress today as there was a lot of meowing around the toilet again.  Not stricken, but more help or unsure.

He managed to poop again, but I made the mistake of being there with him again and I don’t want this to be about me holding his paw every time he needs to go.

It really is hard to see if he went or not between the good aim and the pawing litter into the hole.  I suppose that is preferable to actually seeing excrement or urine on the white floor.

Day 12

When I got back from my meeting, Miko had pooped and peed all by himself without me.  So, yay!   No stress there.

In just a few days we go to the next size.

Day 13

Cleaned up this morning knowing he went pee, but again either his aim is stellar or he’s holding it in.

Cleaned up again later.

Caught him on the toilet as I walked by and stood there peering into the bathroom darkness.  I wasn’t sure if it was a cat shape sitting on the toilet.  When he hopped down I realized my mistake.  Probably thought I was a stalker.  He ended up not going.  Argh.  My bad.

His litter is clean so we will see what I wake up to.  Hopefully not a paw at my throat warning me never to watch him during his private moments ever again.

Day 14

Another successful day.  Miko is a champ.  He’s like the Rocky of CitiKitty.  Apparently Nate discovered poops and pee in the toilet this morning.

Actually, there was very little running outside to wash his tray today.  I just had to replenish litter.

He did a pee, I cleaned, then he hopped up and pooped right in front of me.  I’m like, “I thought I’d traumatized you.  I see now you enjoy an audience.”  Then Miko watched in fascination as the toilet flushed it all away.  Like pretty water magic that he wanted to drink.  Ew.

Not antsy or jumpy about the flushing at all.  He’s doing great, too.

Day 15

Worked like a charm today.  Only one trip outside to wash the tray with the hose.  I think the neighbors are beginning to wonder about me.

Day 16

Woke to shuffled litter so I assume Miko went.  I cleaned his tray and refreshed the litter, and he went pee almost immediately.

Day 17

He’s got this.

Day 18

A few repetitive quiet meows then he did his thing on the toilet.  I heard the plop, plop, plop.  I think he prefers me watching.  Great.  I broke my cat.

Days 19 – 27

Obviously more of the same or I would have written a small novel about it.  My cat is freaking brilliant!  And his bowel movements are super regular, too!

Day 28

Today is the first day on the last rung without cat litter.  I swept, cleaned the toilet, washed the insert.  So we will see how it goes.

The other day Miko was kind of needy and whiny.  I may have created an attention-seeking monster with all the high praise I give him after he goes.  He also seems to prefer that the toilet is flushed immediately after his first trip to the toilet for a pee so that it’s nice and clean for his poop.

No accidents!!  Success!!

Day 35

No insert, nothing.  Nothing but a toilet seat and my cat.  He’s meowy, but no problems. PHEWWWW!!

Training Complete

That’s all she wrote, folks.  It’s been barely a week and I’ve already acclimated to never ever ever scooping a poop again.

Number of times I said “poop”:  23

Excuses – But Better

whatsyourexcuse

Do you ever have something come up and someone asks you about it and your reason (or excuse) is so dumb you wish you could offer a less lame way to explain it? Well, fret no more, you’ve come to the right place. I’ve done all the heavy lifting for you.

Acute Apathy Disorder

“I just didn’t feel like it.”

Apparel Misappropriation

“My sister swiped the shirt I was going to wear.”

Apparel Sanitation Deficiency

“I have no clean clothes.”

Benign Positional Stasis

“I’m grounded.”

Conflicting EleGrav Forces

“I fell.”

Domestic Fracture

“I broke up with my girlfriend/boyfriend.”

Emotional Attachment Failure

“I just didn’t care.”

Extended Photinus Pyralis Media Intake

“I stayed home to watch the entire Firefly series instead.”

False Depth Perception Calculation

“I walked/fell into a [insert object].”

Feline Agitation Miscalculation

“My cat scratched me.”

Financial Resource Allotment Deficiency

“I didn’t bring enough money.”

Global Communication Blackout

“My internet went down.”

Ocular Media Alternative

“I read a book instead.”

Olfactory Pheromone Resistance

“I don’t like the way he/she smells.”

Pet Product Extraction

“The cat/dog threw up.”

Social Incongruence

“I don’t like him/her.”

Vehicular Fuel Intake Adjustment

“I had to get gas.”

Waste Transit Redirect

“I had to take out the garbage.”

My Life as a Lucy Skit: Episode 1

I like to call this episode:  The Back and the Bottle

For those of you not familiar with my utter disregard for the English language when it comes to phrases, you can check out my Melissaisms post so you understand what a “Lucy skit” is, especially if you were born before the year 1980.

My back has been sore, really sore, for about four weeks now.  Some days, I felt like Fonzie in his “old suit” from Happy Days moaning and groaning as I rolled out of bed.  No, seriously, I literally had to roll out of bed, let my feet flop onto the floor, and then drag myself up by the bedpost.  If it didn’t hurt so much, it’d be pretty hilarious.  Actually, never mind, it hurt and it’s still funny.  Laugh away.  It took me three minutes to make my way to the bathroom for morning ablutions (which is not the same as absolutions, by the way).

Anyway, on this particular day, the pain was so bad that I just decided to stay in bed, rock the heating pad, and catch up on Season 1 of Suits.  Epicurially speaking, I was exceptionally well stocked with my Trader Joes baked corn chips, a big bottle of orange seltzer fresh from the frigid-y fridge, and my iPad.  There may have been some chocolate.  Look, I’m wounded, chocolate heals all ailments.  Don’t you judge me!

So I’m flopped down in bed, pillow under my knees, heating pad scorching my back (I really need to figure out how to lower the temp on that thing), enjoying the episode of Suits where Harvey and his protege, Mike, trade witty movie quotes and Harvey solves an insolvable legal situation within the last three minutes of the episode, when I have this strange thought:

Huh…this bottle of seltzer sure is sweating.

I touch my leg and it’s damp.  Seriously, people, this is the way my mind works.  I think:

Wow, that fridge must have been cold.

I ignore the bottle and continue watching the show.  Did I notice that the bottle was on its side?  Sure, but the cap was on.  That’s the great thing about caps: they keep the liquid inside the bottle.

I finish the episode and move on to the next one.  But my leg is really wet now and so I tap it again.  Then, I partially lift the covers and see a wet spot the size of a baseball on the bed.  My first thought is:

But the cap was closed…

Or was it?

Doesn’t matter.  This looks bad and there is no way I can pin it on the cat.  Cats simply do not urinate orange seltzer.  Plus, I get it into my head that my husband is going to think that I wet the bed in the middle of the afternoon.  (Swing back to the illogical comment about urine and smell.)

So, after a moment or two of, “I can’t believe that bottle leaked”, now I’m cheesed because my back hurts and I gotta hide the evidence that I was eating in bed!  Okay, corn chips, tossed on the floor.  Luckily, they landed open side up or that would have added insult to injury.  Get it?  Injury?  Back injury?  Whatever.  The mint M&Ms (oh right, that’s what I was eating) land on the night table beside me, clicking against each other in the (thankfully) sealed bag.

At this point, it still hasn’t dawned on me that liquid and a heated blanket make for “electrifying”, yet potentially Darwinian, stories and that I’d probably dodged a major bullet.  I managed to wriggle gracelessly out from under it and drop it on the floor.

I finally (again) flop myself off the bed, but not before fighting with the cover sheet and comforter, which had suddenly wound themselves around my legs and the pillow while I was trying to escape from the heating pad.  Let me tell you, every single twist ached.  You know the kind.  The one where you surprise yourself with a yelp.   I was like a puppy surprised by the bite of a really big flea.

Okay, now that I’m finally out of the bed, I have to bend over and pull all the covers back to get a good look at the mattress.

Wow.  That’s a lot of liquid.

That’s not a baseball, that’s a beach ball!

We’ve had an issue with particularly industrious (and committed) ants in the kitchen lately and I start to freak out, thinking all sorts of inane things.  You’d think I was on some kind of psychotropic drug with all the freakouts, but no, it’s just my own mind doing it’s thing.  So I have this scenario in my head where these ants somehow make their way from the kitchen, all the way through the living-room, down the hall, into our bedroom, smack dab into the middle of the mattress.  And then I start to imagine all these little creatures nested inside the bed,  burrowing and having babies, waiting until the black of night when we’re asleep and unaware, to slip out and start walking over my face and arms.  I started feeling invisi-ants immediately.  (Seriously, I just had to check my arm.  Even just writing this, I totally thought I had one walking over it.)

Not much I can do about the mattress, so I have to lug that freaking comforter off the bed.  The cat freaks out and thinks it’s play time at the zoo.  He launches himself onto the covers and has a field day.  Now I have to get the fitted sheet off the bed, along with the pillow top cover thingy, which means (you guessed it) more leaning, more stretching, more groans.

Rather than just lift and carry, instead, I grab the fitted/pillowtop and drag them down the hall.  Miko goes crazy and chases the sheet all the way down the hall.  I have to somehow get this mass of fabric out the door without the cat (who is an indoor cat, but likes to spontaneously make a break for it when the side door is open), down the steps, close the door (more twiiiiistinggggg), and into the garage where the washer and dryer are.

Mission one accomplished, I go back inside where the cat was waiting for me with his nose pressed against the crack of the door, ready to bolt.  One stern command from me and he backed off.  I was in no mood!

Now I have to go back for the dang comforter, which is bulky and heavy and wetter than I thought.  If I can’t lift some iddy biddy sheet and a pillow top, you know I’m going to be miserable with this thing.  So, whatever.  Deal, Mel.  I grab it and begin dragging.  This thing is far more voluminous that the other fabric and it’s clunky!  I’m draaaaaagging it through the house, doing a little impromptu floor sweep as I make my way down the hall, and draaaag it through the recycle bags, and the cat dish, and the shoes, and the ant traps right by the door in the kitchen.

Another warning to the cat as I slide open the dining room door and haul that thing outside, close the door and try and flop it on the outdoor chair to air out.  Well, I can’t get the stupid thing to hang right so that the wet part is facing the sun!  So I’m fiddling with this fabric monstrosity, grabbing (and pulling, and tweaking my back) more chairs over so finally I have this tent-like structure made out of comforter in the backyard.

I get back inside and open the sliding glass door in the bedroom with the hope that the breeze will help with speed-drying the mattress.  It didn’t occur to me that perhaps a door to the outside world just a few feet away was even easier access for ants.  Unlike the kitchen, say, which was all the way on the other side of the house.  Finally, I just had to accept the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to replace the mattress with a new one by the time Ron got home and maybe ants weren’t attracted to orange seltzer.  It’s not like it was a sugar-filled (‘scuse me, corn syrup-filled) bottle of Coke.  Maybe seltzer (even flavoured) was too bitter to even be appetizing?

Back to the bed.  I’m not even near done.  I still have to replace the fitted sheet!

Anyone who has ever made a bed knows that the fitted sheet is the worst part.  The leaning.  The bending.  The lifting.  The slip of fabric falling back.  The lifting again.  The tucking.  The realization that the stupid sheet is facing the wrong direction!  So now I gotta fight with that.

Again, the cat’s riding the sheet like it’s Splash Mountain in Disneyland.  I’m not going to lie when I say to you that I considered just locking him inside it, cute or not.

So all of this pretty much kills my movement-free day.  Hours later, the sheets have been replaced, the bed is made.  Before Ron even had a chance to ask, I had to spill my guts about the seltzer.

After all that, his response was:

That mattress hurts my back.  We should replace it .

Roll credits.

And yes, the cat was all up in my grill when I pulled the comforter inside, dragged it down the halls (through the stuff, and stuff), and up onto the bed to make it.  Again, he was all yeehaaaaa!!! flinging himself on top of the comforter, under it, around it, like a cowboy on a bucking bronco.  Clearly, if he was a good cat, he would have been more sensitive to the fact that Mommy’s back hurt and to knock that crap off!

Seriously, this is just a day in the life of me.  I can’t make this stuff up.