Breakfast

Breakfast is important for little boys. Carter, as always, ate a great breakfast. During the rest of the day his eating habits are up for debate, but he is solid at breakfast. Spike, well, when I asked him what he wanted for breakfast, this was his response: "clouds and mountains and snow and rainbows." Coming right up!

P.S. Yesterday he told me that the "trees eat the rain and mountains eat the clouds". Beauty and perspective really are in the eyes of the beholder. I love hanging out with these kids.

Cat Lady Part 2

Minutes after arriving on scene, Jeff correctly assessed that the situation was nearing def con 5. He suggested that we drive to the Humane Society and pick up a cat. The desire to avoid my meltdown gave Jeff vigor to secure a cat. We made the journey, put on our happy faces and started over.

The Humane Society was much more, well, humane, than the county shelter. The barking and pee were minimal. It wasn't scary. That said, you have to to be a special kind of person to work at, and apparently, frequent shelters. It is just a different world. Did you know that in order to touch a cat you have to turn in your driver's license? Apparently, people just bust in there and steal animals? Who knows. Insanity.

After turning in my license and promising to purell my hands between touching each cat (for the cat's sake, not mine,) we began the process. We read all the cautions. We selected a cat that had short hair and was good with kids and dogs. He was allowed to have his paws touch the ground. He wasn't the Garfield looking cat Spike wanted, but he seemed cool. Here is the kicker...you can meet the cats, but only one at a time. The area set aside for you to meet the cat is a 4X4 cement cell with peeling paint and no fresh air. I'm not kidding. Picture it, the whole Drury family and a big a** cat in the 4X4 cell. After about 15 minutes, we'd had enough of the cell and figured the cat was a go.

I got in line to sign up for the cat..FINALLY we were getting a cat! The lady asked how long we'd spent with the cat. I lied and said 25 minutes. She gave me a worried look and said we needed to spend another 10 minutes. Back to the cell we went. This time Jeff was out. He'd had all the cat hair he could take, so he began to fill out the adoption papers. We put in the extra 10 minutes. I couldn't wait to pay my $15 and be out of there with a cat. Guess what? DENIED AGAIN!! This time, not because of me, but because apparently the cat has a history of biting. I had to wait to talk to the shelter director who informed me that she wouldn't feel good sending him home with kids. Are you kidding me? Why did his paper say, "good with kids"?!!! Better yet, when you sent me back with the cat for additional time, were you just waiting for us to get bit? 30 minutes shot! I explained to the kids that our new cat would eat them and so we had to start over.

Now I was desperate. I told the lady I just wanted a cat that could go outside, hang with the kids, and deal with a crazy old beagle. What cat could I have?? She selected a tabby named "Misty." Misty didn't strike me. I heard some story about how Misty used to be "Loraine's cat" and they are so sad she has to give her away. I don't care about Loraine or her personal problems. I want a cat. I don't really want Misty, but I realized she was my last chance. Back to the cell the kids and I Misty went.....for another 30 minutes. During those 30 minutes, the cat laid on the floor. Spike jumped off the concrete bench (that took up 2 feet of the 4 foot room). Carter whined and told me stories about Sponge Bob. I tried not to lose my mind. Jeff would peek in with worried eyes. When our time was up, I dragged the cat to the front to get out of the place.

It looked like a go! Jeff and Carter left. Spike and I stayed to finish the paper work. I handed in the paperwork (4 pages no less!) and we were told to wait. Forty-five minutes later, Spike had pointed out all poo in all cages, barked at a dog, worn a caution cone on his head and wallowed in filth. We watched our fist choice cat bite a woman. There were numerous announcements about the Humane Society closing. Another family came and went with a new dog. We were still waiting. If you are counting, we were now over 3 hours into the process, Things were awesome. I kind of lost my mind. That's all I'm saying about that.

Finally, they realized they had "misplaced" my paperwork. Um, okay, there are 3 people there, how do you lose it? We went through all the paperwork. Jeff and Carter came back to see if we were still alive. I paid them my $15 and I thought we were out the door. Jeff took out the kids and I just had to get the cat in the box. The shelter people said tearful goodbye's to Lorraine's cat. Just as I was out the door, the worker decided the cat needed all of her claws trimmed. AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! I waited another 10 minutes to have the cat's nails trimmed. How will she kill voles with trimmed nails? The shelter lady then informed me that that cat required special "hairball formula" food. So help me.....

Four hours after we began the quest, we finally loaded the cat in the car and drove away. I prayed the whole time the cat wouldn't die in the back of the car on the way home. She made it. No worries though, if she dies within 10 days, through no fault of mine, I can get a new cat for free. I just have to take her dead body back to the shelter for proof. Promise...I had to sign a paper.

P.S-Carter renamed the cat Friska. She is anything but frisky. She has lived here for a week and her paws touched grass for the first time today. Meet Friska. Sorry for the quality. Friska hates me, so I can't get a good picture.

Cat Lady Rant Part 1

In the not so distant past, I had a real fear of becoming a cat lady. If you knew me then, you know why I feared this and you probably feared for me as well. If you didn't know me then, well, the memories are too terrible to revisit. For the last 10+ years, I've been cat-less. Sure, we've talked about cats, even looked at them, but I could never commit. Until now. Spike loves kitties and the voles pushed me over the edge.

We determined that last Monday was the day we'd get a cat. The kids and I scoped out available cats on the Salt Lake County Animal Shelter website and headed to SLC. (We'd already checked out the Heber shelter. They offered a cat with one eye and another that wouldn't be touched. Also, fun fact, you have to walk past the gas chamber and incinerator to view the animals there.)


When we walked in the SLC shelter, I feared we were in the wrong place. It was a cross between a homeless shelter and a parole hearing. The place was horrible. I'm talking animal pee, barking dogs, crying babies, and really, I'm just going to say it, the lowest forms of human life. Not people who have had bad luck or people who haven't had opportunity for success or even people who have made bad choices. I'm talking about prison hair, gold teeth, tattoos on the face kind of people. There were signs all over indicating that you had to have proof of address to adopt an animal. The primary animal on the arms of most patrons was a pitbull. The place was packed with them. I'm not against pitbulls, but they do make me nervous. Especially given the caliber of people were the "masters" of them.

We got in a line to wait in another line. We listened to fights and watched a couple make out. Carter clung to my leg. Spike buried his head in my shoulder. I tried to remain strong. We finally found the cat room. We tapped on cages, imagined names, smiled and talked to the cats. After much deliberation on the part of the boys and I, we selected three cats we wanted to meet and stood in two more lines to get helped. We were GETTING A CAT!!!

And then it happened. The super mean worker mentioned that our first choice cat had been declawed. I told her we'd skip that cat because I didn't want a declawed cat. "What do you mean?" the super mean employee asked. Note: at this point I took a step forward, as I could feel the breath of the woman with a mullet, 5 inch long nails and blue eye shadow, standing behind me. Her boobs were literally touching my back. The worker paused to tell my shadow AKA-crazy woman, to please step back in line and quit touching me. I explained to the worker that because the cat would go in the back yard that I wanted it to have claws. The worker lost her mind. She in no uncertain terms informed me that it was strictly prohibited to allow cats to go outside. EVER. She went on to explain that people letting cat's paws touch grass are solely responsible for all homeless pets and it is completely irresponsible. She was getting madder by the minute. Where could this be heading?

I backtracked. I said that the cat would be inside 90% of the time (lie...I didn't want it in the house, only the garage). I praised the virtue of our fence and the large field behind the house. I got nowhere. Never mind that the cat would be loved and cared for. Never mind that it would come in the house occasionally and live in a warm garage. Hell, forget the fact that I am a member of society that has never had parole? Forget all of that. I WAS DENIED FOR CAT ADOPTION!! Not only was I denied, but she threw some paper at me and told me to look into a feral cat facility if that was how I was going to take care of the cat. Cats from her shelter only go to, "good homes." Are you kidding me?!!!!!!

The kids sobbed as I drug them, empty handed, out of the shelter. I thought only the worst possible swear words. OK, I said most of them. I told the kids that the shelter woman was horrible and mean and wanted us to be sad. I said a lot of bad things. Jeff arrived, (thinking he was going to meet our new cat) and got an earful of me saying even more bad things. Things were at an all time low. The cat lady was denied a cat. At that moment, I saw two thugs walk out with their new pit bulls.

To be continued......