I think this may have been the longest unintentional blog break that I’ve ever taken, and the problem with coming back is that so much has happened, I don’t know where to begin in updating.
First things first, my son found his mitt. It was lost for a week, and then the team who had the practice field after us delivered it to him. It was obviously a huge relief, although I’m wondering why they waited a week to return it to us. I’m hoping the FBI will give this issue the attention it deserves.
Then, my parents “found” a new cat. She came out of the park and my parents, apparently unable to tell the difference between a homeless cat for a pot of gold, clung to her for dear life and proclaimed that she will be their cat. They named her Friday- Frida for short. The only problem was that their cat, Sly, has been on his deathbed and Mama said that she will not bring a younger cat into their house while Sly is still alive. Which is not very Newt Gingrich of her, but whatever. So then Mama and Papa started hinting that I should take this cat in on a temporary basis, until Sly kicks the bucket. And then Husbandrinka, much to my shock and eventual horror agreed, assuming, of course, that the bucket were moved closed to Sly and that we received confirmation that his kicking leg was operational.
So Frida arrived in our home on Wednesday and immediately hissed at everyone, including Nicki. And then she ate all of Nicki’s food, as well as her own. “Why is Frida eating all of Nicki’s food?” I asked. “Maybe because Frida didn’t have any food for a long time,” my daughter told me.
And then on Thursday morning, Husbandrinka wondered if we are supposed to leave the cats alone unattended, because what if they fight and I said that I wonder how those people who hoard cats manage, and Husbandrinka looked very alarmed and said that he didn’t like where I was going with this. So we kept them separated for the morning and then when I came home, I let Frida out and within a few hours she attacked Nicki and then when my son walked by whistling a happy tune she attacked his foot, bit it and scratched him. So I called Mama and told her that Frida must be removed with all deliberate speed and the kids and I huddled in the one Frida-free room until Papa came and removed Frida from the premises. Or maybe we locked Frida in one room and waited for a priest to arrive for exorcism purposes.
Which is too bad, because I had many fun post titles for adventures with Frida- including SchadenFrida and Frida is Just Another Word for Nothing Left to Lose.
But maybe it’s for the best, because Frida is not very photogenic.