Tuzigut 2006-2006

One day while at work my husband sent me a picture via email of a cat and asked if we could take it home.  Apparently a guy in his office found it and he already had two cats so this little guy needed a new home.  My knee-jerk reaction was not only no but hell no.  But the more I thought about it the more I realized that if it was me wanting a new pet and we had was one, Cass, my husband would have said hell yes to me.  So in an effort to be the partner he is to me, I said yes, but you're cleaning the litter box.  Oh, the other stipulation was that I got to name him. 

I knighted him Tuzigut (if you ask why that will be another long story).  So Tuzi, as we took to calling him, came to live with us.  Honestly, not sure that Cass cared all that much,  When she got too close he batted at her and let her know what his boundaries were.  So my loving husband bought cat litter and his little litter box, or his potty.  While he cleaned it often, my husband not the cat, I would still come home complaining that the house smelled.  I knew it was something I would learn to deal with.  Unfortunately for Cass the temptation was too much.  The litter box had a dome top to reduce the smell,(and give the cat some privacy) but that didn't slow her down.  She'd finagle her head into the box and go to town like it was a frickin' buffet.  You would have never known she was chomping down on the Tootsie rolls except she would come into the living room with a  cat litter mustache like a "Got Milk": as.  A few times I caught her with her head in the candy dish.  I would yell her name to make her stop but it would scare her.  She would jump and the dome lid would pop off and get stuck around her neck. Then you would have to helop her out of her pastic head piece. 

Even though I would complain (loudly), my husband said this was just something I would have to get used to, it was part of having a cat AND a dog.  So I tried, really I did, to keep the complaining to a dull humorous roar.  Eventually, Tuzi figured out how to use the doggie door and started utilizing the backyard as his potty.  While I didn't enjoy the occasional smell wafting from the sage bush, but between that and the litter box Cass' snack pack, I could deal with it.  So for a few months we all lived together happily.  Our new feline friend began to grow on my as well.  He was sweet, when he wanted to be  And that was something I could relate to.  But not everything was going so smoothly.  It all began slowly, occasionally.  Nothing major.  We started finding Cass sitting at the patio door, waiting.  Sometimes she was inside, other times outside.  We honestly thought nothing of it for who know how long.  We would just open the door for her and she would happily come through.  Occasionally, we would laugh about her being fussy.  But then she started whimpering, in the middle of the night, to be let in or out.  We thought she was hurt but it was primarily to get our attention.  My husband was convinced she had gotten too big for the doggie door.  We argued about, took measurements of her and the door and shopped for a new door. But then one time I saw her poke her head through the door, as if to just check and *BAM* out of nowhere Tuzi jumped and swatted as her head.  She quickly pulled her head back through the door.  She would then resume her sentry stand by the doggie door.  When I told my husband he was partly proud of the stealth attack by Tuzi but ultimately knew we had to protect Cass' right to potty. But how do you discipline an animal who could care less about your needs, desires and mandates or your treats?  So we continued to open the patio door for our bullied dog when we had a perfectly good doggie door.  Oh, but its not like we could get rid of the dog door insert cuz the damn cat continued to use the doggie door.

So what's the solution?  How do you make a dog and a cat share a dooggie door?  How do you show a cat that you are the alpha in the house? 

I don't know. 

Tuzigut ran away one night and never came back.  My husband was convinced that a coyote ate him.  I on the other hand, refused to admit 1.) he died because I didn't like the little box or 2.) that there was something close to our house that could potentially eat us.  I chose to believe he just moved on to another house.  I mean that makes the most sens right?  Not a coyote that would have made its way down the river bead that was behind our house.  Com'on he ran away before!  That's how we got him!  He was a feline whore!  Not lunch.  Right?

Crested Bassett

Mopping today.  Yay!  Actually mopping is a love/hate relationship for me.  I love the smell of clean, bleached floors, reminds me of my grandma's house.  But with two dogs who shed it doesn't matter how many times you sweep prior to mopping you still end up covered in wet hair.  So while I am on my hands and knees mopping the bedroom, our Basset Hound is laying on the bed, watching.  I'm so glad that I'm here for your entertainment.  I propose to shave him down to the skin and we could have the first Chinese Crested Basset Hound. 

Abusive Relationships

Ya know in Lifetime movies how the girl that has been abused she'll make some threat that she'll leave and then the boyfriend will get all nice buy flowers and be all sweet and stuff.  That's where we're at in my current work relationship.  So as I finish out my last few days with the employer that I have equated to an abusive boyfriend I am seeing things even clearer. I am scared to start the Next Chapter but I know in my heart of hearts that its time to move on.  I am looking for the strength within me to make this jump, this leap of faith, and to find my footing, solid and secure, on a new path.

Sad Face

Some times when I'm eating, I get sad when my plate is clean.  I love food.

Next Chapter

As I have lamented in previous post, i hate my job.  Its not the work as much as it is the people.  While some of them are the greatest people I've ever met and really hope that I've made long time friends; others are fake and manipulative and two faced and difficult and power hungry and out right liars and ugly on the inside and in desperate need of mental help.  So I have been searching for a new job since I came back from maternity leave.  My son turned 18 months the other week.  Its been a long, hard road that has been filled with anger, tears, desperation, stress, heartburn and occasional laughter.  But the road has finally ended.  Praise little baby Jesus!  Seriously, thank you God and Jesus and all your little disciples and the Virginia Mary and throw in Guadalupe for good measure.  Thank you!  The decision to move on has been hard even in light of the fact that I've been looking and praying for so long.  Its hard to leave the people you've spend 40+ hours a week with for over six years.  These people were at my wedding and with me during our fertility troubles and throughout my pregnancy and The Boy's first year of life.  I feel like I'm breaking off a relationship, an abusive one at that but a relationship none the less.  So has as I start the The Last Week and struggle with passing on all of my information I am looking forward to the future, all of it, for the first time in a long time. 

Let go of the past so that I'm capable of embracing the future.