This was just one of those weeks.
If you read the last post, you know that I had no Internet for a week after a power outage. So what else did I do to pass the time besides watch TV and do jigsaw puzzles on the computer?
I attacked my cat.
OK, I didn’t attack Luke (but he’s kinda got it comin’, doncha think? 😉 ); I attacked the mats that had somehow appeared along his spine. So much for Angoras’ single-coat, no-mat magic. Yes, he still gets mats every once in a while, but the lack of undercoat (besides showing off pink belly underneath when he rolls over) keeps them at a minimum … usually.
I’ve been stressed out lately and admittedly haven’t been brushing the boy as much as I should … but he’s also been rolling around more, showing off his floofy belly, too (because he’s a big weirdo).
What this meant was that he looked a bit like a razorback (the wild hog, not a muscled-up football player), but crankier.
Yeah, I know … Luke cranky … that NEVER happens!
So I worked on the mats, little by little eradicating them till there was only one, which I planned to take care of when I got home from work (though it got delayed a bit … more on that later).
I was all prepared to attack the last mat with the slicker brush when I noticed … it.
It was pink skin. On his back.
OK, not a total bald spot, but rather one of those thinning spots that a balding vain man might try to cover up with a horrendously bad comb-over.
I couldn’t use the brush since that would mean more hair pulled out, along with his dignity.
So I had to use the (dun dun dun) scissors.
I did get it out, though.
Even after cutting it off, I couldn’t separate the hair, so I knew I’d made the right decision.
And in all, I probably got rid of at least a half-pound of his 18.
Still, that’s small comfort to a cat with a comb-over.
On to the delay … heavy sigh …
I was about to leave work that day and was telling my landlord I was heading home to tackle the mat from hell. He then told me there was a tree in my yard.
Part of the large pecan tree by the side of the duplex broke off and hit the other side of the building that morning during a mini-storm after I’d left; he didn’t think it caused any electrical damage, but told me to check everything when I got home.
I drove up and chuckled because the huge limbs were on the other half of the yard, so technically, not mine. Then I noticed my porch light was off, which was weird. Then I unlocked the door and walked inside.
The air conditioners were working (thank God), but a lot of things weren’t. The tree had smacked the electrical lines on the way down, causing (I found out the next day) some power surges, which took out several surge protectors, my alarm clock, answering machine, and several other things (I’m still working on figuring out what was damaged).
That also meant my cordless phone and wifi gateway weren’t working because that power strip died (that’s what I get for being excited about getting my Internet back the day before). And while I was on the regular phone with my mom, Luke was biting my right butt cheek the whole time because I’d pulled over “HIS” chair to sit in because I was exhausted. I couldn’t convince him to try the left cheek for a while to even it out.
The next day I went into work pretty darned cranky, and sent an email to others in the department to let them know what happened and that I would have to get out earlier than usual so I could go pick up new power strips, cords, etc. to try to set things right. I couldn’t take a whole day since I was working hard to get everything set up for the next week when I would be off, so I was just taking care of things when I could.
My buddy John (Deering, the cartoonist) saw how stressed out I was, and not long after I related the story of the pecan tree tragedy, he knocked on my door and presented me with this:
I love my friends.
- Five Tips to Prepare Your Cat for National Hairball Awareness Day (veterinary.answers.com)
- New TV Commercial – Jell-O Pudding “Comb Over” (great-ads.blogspot.com)