Sunday, Sept. 18, 2005
Dear Diary:

So, uh, yesterday when I mentioned that three cats still left some doubt as to whether or not a person was a crazy cat lady?

Forget about the doubt, it's now been confirmed.

This is one long drink of cat.Hello, my name is Marn and I am a crazy cat lady.

It's well over an hour's drive to the cat shelter and on the way there the spousal unit and I discussed all the reasons why it would be insane to come home with more than one cat.

Our house is small. We already have two cats and integrating even one cat is going to be a challenge. There's the expense of the shots�because our cats go outside, we get them every shot going, including feline leukemia, which means it runs us $50 a year per cat just for shots.

And let's not talk about what vet bills run if a cat gets sick. Been there. Done that.

So we got to the shelter firm in our conviction that we'd only come home with Savannah.

Isn't she lovely

Yep, one cat. One cat only. So we got to the shelter and the woman who runs it gave us a health run down on Savannah. When she had her neutered she also gave her a flea treatment. The cat has a small infection in one ear so she's been on antibiotics. She gave us the antibiotics which we have to give her for five more days. I offered to pay for them but she wouldn't hear about it because she knew how much the vet bills for Vera had run.

All the time we were talking Savannah sat in my arms purring softly, making dough on my skin. I felt a weight on my foot and looked down. A tiny young velvety gray cat was sprawled over my foot. He wrapped his paws around my ankle. I did my best to ignore him.

One cat. One cat only.

I could feel the vibration of his purring against my skin.

One cat. One cat only.

The woman who runs the shelter looked down at my foot. "If you take this cat, I'll give him to you," she said. I blinked. She told me that because he was small, young and timid some of the older cats were attacking him and it was only a matter of time before he was seriously hurt. He had to spend most of his day in a cat cage to keep him safe. It was not much of a life for him, she said.

She gave me The Look. The cat gave me The Look. I gave the spousal unit The Look. The spousal unit looked down at my feet. The cat gave him The Look. The spousal unit was toast.

Meet Binky.

Four cats. I now own four cats. I am now officially a crazy cat lady. Oh dear.

Having kept Binky and Savannah in my office for twelve hours I can state two things with confidence: first off, they are going to get along like a house on fire. Every time I look at them they are either grooming each other, playing, or sleeping together in a jumble of cat limbs.

Secondly, I have now solved the mystery of global warming.

It is Binky.

I have never, ever owned a cat that has emitted this much methane. Never. Whatever holes there might be in the ozone layer, said holes are Binky's fault. Oceanic warming? Binky. The melting of the polar ice cap? Binky. I'm thinking the other cats at the shelter put a contract out on him just to end the incessant farting.

I'm also betting the farting was why the shelter manager waived the $85 adoption fee. That will teach me not to look a gift horse in the mouth, or cautiously sniff the air around a gift cat. Hopefully my three loyal readers have learned from my naivete and will carefully smell the air around a gift cat. A person can never be too careful.

And, um, if any of my three loyal readers are of a praying disposition, please, please add the words, "and God, make Binky stop farting" to your prayers.

So for the next two weeks I get to share my office with Binky, the toxic gas cat, and Savannah. The spousal unit has installed a temporary door to my office that has a big inch and a half gap at the bottom so Enid and Zubby can look through it and see the other cats and Binky and Savannah can see them.

Once they get used to the notion that there are interlopers, and I'm sure the interlopers are in perfect health, then we'll start letting Zub and Enid hang out with Savannah and Binky. Judging by tonight's hiss fest, it should go extremely well.

Not.

--Marn

P.S.�If you have a few bucks to spare, please consider donating to the Jog for the Jugs. Remember, all your donations are going to help in the fight against breast cancer and they're in Canadian dollars, which are only marginally more valuable than monopoly money.

Mileage on the Marnometer: 953.08 miles. 10 per cent rubber duck10 per cent rubber duck10 per cent rubber duck10 per cent rubber duckhalf way smooch10 per cent rubber duck Over half way there. Oh, man, please let this be over

Goal for 2005: 1,250 miles - 2000 kilometers


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