Tossed my Way
My first real pet I ever had was thrown at me.
Growing up with allergies and major asthma we didn't have pets like a dog or cat and my mother was terrified of birds. Nope, it was fish or gerbils for us. Take it or leave it. But that's another story.
I had just moved into a huge dump of a house on Starr Street in Nac-a-nowhere, Texas (That's Nacogdoches for out of staters) in my third year of college. The house was extremely large with several great shade trees and in an excellent location. The price was also very right - $400 a month for 4.5 bedrooms, 2 baths, super large kitchen and eating area and doubled the living room area with another eating area. Split the rent with 3 other roommates took on another pro versus the major con - the house was still a dump. When you're living on a dime you really don't see that part until looking back. My Doctor grandfather, who worked on a county medical board in Indiana, once visited and told my mother that the house should be condemned. Thanks a lot grandpa.
Well anyway, I had arranged it so that every semester I had Fridays off - kinda funny how that works out. I had slept late this particular Friday and while showering I heard a knock on the door. I wrapped a towel around my then thin body and thought nothing of answering the door in just my towel thinking it would probably be a boyfriend. Shock hit me in the face when standing on the door step were the two electricians who had been at the house the previous week. I really hadn't spoken much to them when they were repairing some wiring that kept shorting out, but my roommates had. Actually, two of them went out of their way to flirt with the men in hopes of getting them to also fix the major rat problem.
The two electricians had come up with an idea of getting rid of the rat (I use the singular for the rat because it turned out to be one big-man thigh sized rat - another story). The men then tossed me a tiny kitten and ran. Literally ran! Jumped into their truck and spun out of the drive.
Oh great! I'm extremely allergic, my roommates are in class, and I've got a kitten in my arms. A kitten who was so small she fit into one of my medium mixing bowls wrapped in a clean dish towel. She looked like a gremlin.
When my roommates (bitches from hell) got home I explained the situation and announced that the cat had to go. Well, they couldn't do anything because they were on their way out of town for the weekend leaving me alone all weekend with a scared little kitty. See ya. Bang (door hitting their asses on the way out).
I knew nothing about animal care, except that they eat, sleep and poop. I was in trouble. I hoofed it to the store picked up the items I thought necessary to get me through the weekend. A box of Friskies and cat litter - no cat box at this point 'cause she wasn't staying, right? I was gonna use a cardboard box lined with a plastic trash bag. It actually worked great for a few days and that kitten was a fast learner. Not one accident. Good Kitty. She and I spent the whole weekend together and before Sunday morning came I had given her a name - DiMeola (after the jazz guitarist). My first true love. She never bothered my allergies - God had sent her.
Damn, I miss that cat. June 1984
Growing up with allergies and major asthma we didn't have pets like a dog or cat and my mother was terrified of birds. Nope, it was fish or gerbils for us. Take it or leave it. But that's another story.
I had just moved into a huge dump of a house on Starr Street in Nac-a-nowhere, Texas (That's Nacogdoches for out of staters) in my third year of college. The house was extremely large with several great shade trees and in an excellent location. The price was also very right - $400 a month for 4.5 bedrooms, 2 baths, super large kitchen and eating area and doubled the living room area with another eating area. Split the rent with 3 other roommates took on another pro versus the major con - the house was still a dump. When you're living on a dime you really don't see that part until looking back. My Doctor grandfather, who worked on a county medical board in Indiana, once visited and told my mother that the house should be condemned. Thanks a lot grandpa.
Well anyway, I had arranged it so that every semester I had Fridays off - kinda funny how that works out. I had slept late this particular Friday and while showering I heard a knock on the door. I wrapped a towel around my then thin body and thought nothing of answering the door in just my towel thinking it would probably be a boyfriend. Shock hit me in the face when standing on the door step were the two electricians who had been at the house the previous week. I really hadn't spoken much to them when they were repairing some wiring that kept shorting out, but my roommates had. Actually, two of them went out of their way to flirt with the men in hopes of getting them to also fix the major rat problem.
The two electricians had come up with an idea of getting rid of the rat (I use the singular for the rat because it turned out to be one big-man thigh sized rat - another story). The men then tossed me a tiny kitten and ran. Literally ran! Jumped into their truck and spun out of the drive.
Oh great! I'm extremely allergic, my roommates are in class, and I've got a kitten in my arms. A kitten who was so small she fit into one of my medium mixing bowls wrapped in a clean dish towel. She looked like a gremlin.
When my roommates (bitches from hell) got home I explained the situation and announced that the cat had to go. Well, they couldn't do anything because they were on their way out of town for the weekend leaving me alone all weekend with a scared little kitty. See ya. Bang (door hitting their asses on the way out).
I knew nothing about animal care, except that they eat, sleep and poop. I was in trouble. I hoofed it to the store picked up the items I thought necessary to get me through the weekend. A box of Friskies and cat litter - no cat box at this point 'cause she wasn't staying, right? I was gonna use a cardboard box lined with a plastic trash bag. It actually worked great for a few days and that kitten was a fast learner. Not one accident. Good Kitty. She and I spent the whole weekend together and before Sunday morning came I had given her a name - DiMeola (after the jazz guitarist). My first true love. She never bothered my allergies - God had sent her.
Damn, I miss that cat. June 1984
posted by Diedre at 6:00 PM
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