Hello again!
So I know it’s been a while since I’ve written anything for
the blog. The truth is, I’ve been
dealing with some depression for some time now. Long story short, I was taking medication for it and went off of
it. I was happy, newly married, and thought
to myself, self…you’re doing great now.
You don’t need that shit. It’s
time to stop taking it. So I stopped. I
felt fine for a while but gradually everything went to shit. The funny thing about depression is that
there isn’t a whole lot of humor to be found in hiding under your covers most
of the day from ‘people.’ Turns out it
doesn’t matter how great your life is when there’s something wrong with the
chemical balance in your brain. Anyways,
I’ve been to the doctor and got back onto a medication and am feeling much
better now. I’m telling you all about
this not for sympathy, but because if there’s anyone reading this that is going
through what I went through…telling yourself that there’s nothing wrong in your
life and you just need to snap out of it, maybe this will spur you on to get
some help. Alright enough of this
depressing shit…I thought this was supposed to be funny?!? Well, here goes…
So I decided to devote this blog post to our beloved, sweet,
cuddly little Gingy Cat. Just kidding,
she’s a little bitch but it’s cool…we all have our moments, right?
It was a cool day in the end of October when we found this
poor little stray kitten. I had called
Nan to see what she was up to. Apparently,
someone was walking down our alley and found a cute little orange and white
kitten. She was lost, meowing around and
followed a kid that was walking to school.
The kid stopped by Nan’s house at 7am, asking if it was her cat. Since he had to go to school, she told him
she would hang on to the cat and try to find out who she belonged to. My ass.
When I called Nan around 7:45, she was patiently waiting for
the city office to open so she could have Animal Control come pick the damn
thing up. I went next door to Nan’s to
see this adorable little bitch and instantly fell in love.
I told Nan I wanted to keep her but there was no way in hell
my husband was going to allow me to bring another animal into the house. We already had 2 dogs, both of which are
little bastards. Nevertheless, I decided
to send Lenny a picture of this adorable, well-mannered little kitten to see if
there was any chance I could talk him into it.
At first he did say hell no, so I sent another picture. Then he told me I was crazy, so I called
him. I gave it my best, “But she’s so
dang cute and she’s well-behaved and she’s all alone and Nan is going to call
animal control and they’re going to kill her and she’s just a little kitten and
she looks like she’s been in a fight cause she’s got some little patches of fur
missing and I’ll train her to use the litterbox and she’s free and I love her
and…” Lenny interrupted me and said that
he didn’t care, if I really wanted the damn thing then why was I even asking
him? Haha! Sucker!
So I brought her home and introduced her to the dogs. They pretty much hated her from the
beginning. Jackson and Harry, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. I should have listened to you two little
bastards.
But I didn’t. So when
the City Office opened, I called them and gave them her description and told
them if someone called missing their kitten to give them my number and we would
give her back. I mean really, who wouldn’t
miss this adorable little bundle of fur?
Three days passed and the answer to that question is: Whoever
the fuck owned her before us. They didn’t
call. They didn’t miss her. How could
someone be so heartless, you ask? I’ll
tell you how: She’s a little bitch, that’s how.
So we got her a collar, a litter box, and got her all
settled in to her new home. As soon as
we put the litter box down, she ran over to it and started doing her business. Whaaaaat?!?
She’s already litter box trained!
Yeessss!
At this point, I’m thinking why the hell did no one call to
get their kitten back?
So about a week later, I was brushing Aiden’s hair and
pulled his curls back. I noticed a
small, round dry patch on his forehead. Son of a fucking bitch. Ringworm.
And suddenly it all made sense.
This is why she was outside and also why no one called to claim
her. And she wasn’t in a fight. Gingy instantly lost all cuteness. She was officially a leper.
So I take Aiden to the doctor to get a prescription for the
growing red circle on his fucking forehead. (Like seriously? It couldn’t have come up somewhere else? Like anywhere else.) Anyways, I call the doctor and tell them the
cat story (minus the swear words, of course) and tell them that I’m sure it’s
ringworm if they could just call in a script…nope. They have to see him to make sure. Goddammit. Ok, so we head to the doctor, sit
in the waiting room for fucking ever and finally get into the exam room for him
to check Aiden’s spot. He looks him over
and promptly gives me his scholarly opinion, “It looks like ringworm.” No fucking way.
Ya, thanks doc. Can I get the
damn medicine now or what? So he sends a
prescription for this very special cream over to the pharmacy and we wait a
couple hours and go pick it up. (I say
we because I made sure to take Aiden with me so they could see the ringworm on
his forehead…what? I didn’t want them to think I had the ringworm…gross.) We got home and I immediately open the paper
baggie to see exactly what this miracle cream is called. The tube reads: Antifungal Cream, for Athlete’s
Foot. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??? I could have picked this shit up at Walmart
yesterday! Goddammit I knew I should have
Googled it before I called the doctor. Since
then, Google has been my best friend any time anyone in the family has any type
of medical issue going on. However, in
my unprofessional opinion, everyone in my family has been dying of Cancer or
Malaria at least once in the past 6 months.
Paging Dr. Google…not always a good idea.
So anyways we used the cream on Aiden and took Gingy to the
vet. They gave us some actual
prescription medicine for her and told me to put her in an iodine bath to speed
it up. Have you ever tried to bathe a
cat in iodine? Me either. I wasn’t doin that shit. Turns out, we didn’t have to. The pills we had to shove down her throat
worked just fine.
After we got rid of the disease and Aiden looked normal
again (as normal as possible when you’re doing ninja moves while walking down
the street…) everything was going great with Gingy. We had a small, yet expensive bout with
Thiamine Deficiency but that’s another long story for another blog post.
As she grew, I decided we should have named her something
other than Gingy. Both of our dogs,
Harry and Jackson, have human names.
Carol. That’s a good name for a
cat. We’ll just let Gingy be her middle
name. Plus, it sounds better when she’s
in trouble: “Carol! Get off the damn
table, Carol!” Or Carol, quit licking your balls!” Wait a second…
So one day, Aiden was sitting on the couch and looked over
at Carol Gingy Main who was laying on the back of the other couch, looking out
the window. “Holy crap!” he says, “Dude,
Evan! I think Gingy’s growing balls!” Sure enough, our stupid little girl cat was
growing balls. Well, fuck. I’m not changing her name again.
So after many jokes and comments from our three boys about
Carol’s little girl balls, we figured it was time to make an appointment at the
vet to get her neutered. After all, she masqueraded
as a female for the first 4 months we had her, it was clear to me that she was
a Trans-cat. A girl cat trapped in a boy
cat’s body, furry balls and all. We left
the decision up to her and she wanted to go ahead with the surgery, so we told
her we would make the appointment and pay for her so she could be comfortable
in her own skin. (There’s no such thing
as a free fucking cat by the way.) So
she had the surgery to remove her balls.
According to Aiden, the vet did a good job. Her balls were gone. He checked.
And in case you were wondering, no. We didn’t give a fuck
which litterbox she used.
Thanks for reading! I’ve
missed this a lot and I plan to write regularly again so I hope you enjoy!
