So here’s the situation. It’s 8:00 p.m. on Saturday night. I just spent the day cleaning my garage. Loads of fun. I’m grimy, dusty and full of chili because after I spent the day cleaning my garage I made a pot of veggie chili. Then I made macaroni noodles to put the chili on because that’s how my ex’s family did it in Kansas City. So since 1982, when we married, that’s how I’ve eaten it and now I can’t eat naked chili.
Anyway, now I’m stuffed. I also fed my animal crew and my foster cat, all of whom I assume are stuffed as well. My foster cat is nameless because I don’t permanently name them until I know they’ll be adoptable. I foster feral kittens and semi-feral cats. For some reason it’s harder for me to have to relocate them to outdoor homes (if they’re too feral to be adopted) after I’ve named them. Weird, huh?
So when I enter the room in which I’m housing a big orange tabby female, I say ‘Hey Boo Boo.” No reaction. Sometimes I say, “Hey Monkey.” But again, no response. I’ll try on a bunch of names during the time I’m fostering but once I realize that cat or kitten will be adoptable, a name will suddenly hit me and that’s the one that sticks.
Since it’s been another busy week with little time to write, I decided to make a fire, put on a DVD from Netflix called, Gifted, cover myself in my favorite blanket filled with holes from my dog Skip (because it happens to be his favorite blanket too), then finally settle into my chair with an ottoman I usually have to share with two cats, sometimes three. Tonight I’m lucky since it’s only Tippi, so there’s room for my feet.
I desperately need a shower but if I take one now I’ll talk myself out of writing. So my plan is to finish this in record time because I can almost feel the dust settling into my pores. But it was worth it. My garage looked like someone sneaked in and dumped all their junk. But sadly, it was all my junk. Now I have less junk because I made a run to Goodwill with another load to go tomorrow.
So when I sat down tonight to write, I was stymied. I hadn’t planned anything in advance, sort of like in college. Usually saved my studying for, well…later. You’d think because of this poor habit that I work well under pressure but evidently that isn’t the case (evidenced by this post) and my less than stellar grade point average.
But here’s the thing; I wondered if I could make my 600 word-count I usually shoot for since I wasn’t prepared to write tonight. Then I decided to tell you of this dilemma, but once I started, I digressed as usual, then realized who am I kidding? When have I ever been at a loss for words? In fact, I normally have to cut 100 of them so I can get closer to 600…which I’m narrowing in on now. I guess my “real” post will have to wait until next Sunday now.
Hold the fort! Guess who just emerged from the safety of her cage and jumped up on the cat tree?! I’m telling you, this is huge. It’s been just over a week and she barely pokes her head out of her bed.
Looks like I need to start thinking of a name. What do you think of Molly? And on that note I’ll head for the shower. After all, I’m at 606 words.
Originally posted in 2018
Oh, how I love your columns! Old or new I’m always happy to find one in my Sunday inbox. Big thank you for writing them.
I agree with you, Janet. Once we name them, we’ve gone past the point of no return. I find myself asking them what their names are. I kind of like to lock ’em in, which is why I know that I would be a total Foster Failure. Just ask Helen Powers.