The cat who will never die
My husband has this cat: Ethel. People laugh when they hear her name, but it fits her perfectly. She’s almost thirteen, and she’s a crotchety old lady. (In all actuality, she was named in a pair as Lucy and Ethel. Aaron just got stuck with Ethel.)
If I were to describe her least favorable quality, it would be that she just won’t die.
“Lydia!” you say, “How dare you be so crass about a living, breathing creature?”
You don’t know Ethel.
Aaron got Ethel as a Christmas present many moons ago. He kept her because, at the time, she was a cute little kitten and he — although he’ll deny it up and down — is a big old hunky softy. He didn’t get her declawed because it cost too much (and now that I know what they do to declaw them, I’m actually okay with this choice), and she was someone to come home to in his empty home as a bachelor and coach with late nights.
Fast-forward to meeting him and learning that he had a cat. She is pretty soft and fuzzy. She’s pretty self-sufficient. She’s kind of cute. I’m not a cat person at all. No, I love dogs. I have two to prove it. I like that they are super excited to see us when we get home, and we can train them to do awesome stuff. I like that they do things outside that I can choose to clean later rather than having to worry about a smell inside the house.
But I digress. When I learned that he had a cat and then we were engaged soon after, I told myself I could handle her living with me, my daughter, and my dog.
So, they moved in. My love for Ethel – what little there was – quickly diminished.
She ripped up my carpet.
She barfed everywhere.
She walked on my counters.
I was not a happy New Cat Mom.
She’s been with me for five years now. In that short amount of time, we’ve thought she was headed to meet her maker at least five times. In fact, she was barfing like the little girl on The Exorcist one time, and we just knew that was it. She moped around the house and wouldn’t even let Aaron love on her. I made the appointment to take her in. I’d steeled myself against the fact that I’d be driving home with a box full of dead cat.
And then the doctor prescribed steroids and an antibiotic, and guess who bounced back?
That was in March of this year. It’s now October, and she seems to be doing pretty well. Every time I get annoyed by another small pile of puke on the floor, Aaron makes me feel horrible by saying, “Don’t worry. She’ll die soon.”
Will I be sad when she finally does cross that rainbow bridge? A little. But probably only because she’s been a part of my husband’s life for so long, and he’s certain to be a little sad.
But, that’ll probably never happen. She’s going to live forever. In fact, we’ve already decided she’ll outlive all of us.
I love her.
You can have her. <3
Soooooo funny! I’ve been feeding my three dogs peanut butter twice a day and half jokingly saying “get fat and die!” I don’t really mean … most days … but I was a fool to take on a third dog!
I totally get this post!!!!
Glad to have another animal-lover-hater in my corner!!
Ha! I love this! Poor Ethel. She reminds me just the tiniest bit of my mother in law… Story for another day I guess… Dropping in from Mama Kat’s.
I’d LOVE to hear that story – especially if it includes puking, clawing carpets, and walking on counters! 😉
This is my cat, Oscar, exactly!! The kids stand in the doorway with the door open, and each time I yell, “Shut the door so Oscar doesn’t get out” I yell it a little softer. He, too, pukes all over the house. He’s 13 and a half and I keep thinking,…”he can’t live forever, can he?!?!”
“yell it a little softer” — that’s awesome. The puking kills me. I especially hate listening to it. I try to shoo her to a less disgusting location, but it never works.
I love this so much. Probably because I have cats. Yes, that is plural. They make me crazy and we love them all at the same time. The kids especially. But my husband is ready for every single one of them to die. But they won’t. They’ll live forever. Just like Ethel.
Cats – yech. Dogs, plural, I can handle. Kids, plural, I can handle. Don’t know what I’d do if there were more cats!!
I feel your pain. We too have an evil, barfing, destructive cat. Our’s was sweet when we adopted her but turned evil! Unfortunately ours is only 5. We’ve got her for awhile.
Oh bless you. She will probably live forever!
I used to have a cat that I thought would never die. He died last year, at 16. His kidneys were failing, and we took him in to the vet, and she pointed out that failing kidneys are a very painful way to die, so we decided to put him to sleep. He went down fighting, and bit the vet before he went, but I miss that old bastard.
Oh my. 🙁 (But your comment made me die laughing — no pun intended.)
My in-laws have a dog like that. She can barely walk, I’m not sure how well she can see/hear, and she is the grumpiest thing ever. We have to keep the kids away from her. She kind of smells, and she just lays around. There were a few times we thought she was done for but then she recovers. She will never die.
Poor puppy. 🙁
Love this. Great writing, as usual.
You only love it because you KNOW her. 🙂
Oh, too funny – unless, of course, you are the owner of said cat that won’t die. But your storytelling is great. Best part – “guess who bounced back?” Ha!
She always bounces back. I may have to start being afraid. 😉
Here is one of my kids favorite ‘car songs’. Thought of it when I saw today’s blog title. Love your followers comments almost as much as your story. Xo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_cUXj3zb_UY&feature=youtube_gdata_player
LOL. Love it. Thank you!
Look at it from Ethel’s point of view…you took her father from her and then moved her into a different home with a child and a DOG. Poor poor Ethel…no wonder she hates you. 😉
You’re right. She’s innocent. Completely. Or evil. Or innocently evil.