The Cat Is Dead, Absent From The Body But Not From The Head

I’ve been under the weather lately, and aren’t we all? Especially when it rains. There’s no getting over rain. There’s only under it. Unless you have an airplane, and I don’t.

In any case, let us all take a moment to be thankful for antibiotics.

So things have been busy, because if you’re under anything (especially weather) and surrounded by three boys with loud noises and a penchant of throwing hangers at unusual times, you’re busy. Busy keeping  your head up, busy keeping the cat from being assassinated right before your eyes, busy eating yogurt so you can continue being thankful for antibiotics, busy painting your fingernails sparkly red so you can immediately remember that you need to put another log on the fire and spend ten minutes trying to get the log into the fire without smudging your nails. Mission Impossible.

Because of the aforementioned weather and general business, I was cranky when I woke up. My husband told the boys they could use my hair dryer as a gun and that led to screaming and fights over who’s turn it was to use my blow dryer as a gun, and I hadn’t had a drop of coffee.

 It was enough to send me spiraling to the farm, so off I spiraled. I can’t pretend to be a parenting guru, but I can say that I enjoy being a mother and I enjoy my children, so even if they turn out rotten I had fun turning them out. I believe that if a mother feels like running down the street after the garbage truck screaming “Take me with yoooou!” before 7 a.m. it’s time for a change of scenery.

I don’t think we can control how our kids turn out exactly, but we can work at making the journey a pleasant one. If you have boys in your life that are trying to use your hair appliances as weapons, go outside. For the love of Hairspray, GO OUTSIDE!

Anyway, today at the farm my mother was talking to me about Chip the cat, who was dead. I couldn’t remember which farm cat Chip was, and then I didn’t know Chip was dead, so I was confused for a moment. Or two. Perhaps like you are now.

“Oh yes, Chip died suddenly in his sleep. We found him right outside our door. Dead. And Q was here for a visit when it happened so I showed him the cat. You know, so he would know what death looks like,” said my mother.

I can always depend on my mother to guide my children gently into the dark and stormy waters of reality.

“YEAH!” interjected Q (who is four by the way, and no stranger to death now), “Chip was dead, and all his body was chewed off and nothing was left except his head!”

I just stared at my Mother who began her defense. “No! He was not! He died in his sleep and he was all there, what are you talking about? He just looked like he was asleep!”

“No. His eyes were open,” retorted Q.

“Okay yes,” my Mother allowed, “Chip’s eyes were open, but he was very peaceful. He was sleeping with his eyes open.”

I went inside after that. Wouldn’t you?

That’s pretty much all I have for you tonight.

p.s. Tonight before bed, Q fell down while running around like a maniac. We asked him if he was alright and he said, “Yeah. I HAVE to be tough if I’m going to be The Hulk when I grow up.”  So wise, so true.

p.p.s. Maybe I should be apologizing for this post. I feel a mild sense of wickedness, the sort of feeling you get when you get your little sister to dump your parent’s Document Shredder contents on the lawn of a high school friend in the dark of night. Not that I ever did that….it took him a few days to get all the little pieces out of the grass.

p.p.p.s. I still haven’t apologized. You see, this is how I talk in my brain, before I edit myself. I thought you should know.

p.p.p.p.s. That’s a picture of my cat, Dr. Claw, who is not dead.

18 thoughts on “The Cat Is Dead, Absent From The Body But Not From The Head

  1. I laughed with a snort three different times reading this – the antibioitic/yogurt section, the imagery of trying to escape on a garbage truck, and your paper-shredder prank. (I am slightly sad I never thought of such a thing back in my t.p.-ing days of my youth.)


  2. when i was five i went on vacation and we had a cat sitter. because i loved my cat. when we got home my cat was gone. the cat sitter said some girls stole my cat and he chased them down the block. i don't believe it and i never have found out what happened to my cat.

    after that i got another cat, we named her calli. i continued to add on to her name. her name became calli stogi bob cj catra pushkitty the richest, talkingest cat in the world way down willy surprise furball orangie blackie whitey. about a year after we moved from davis to san luis (i was like 8), i came home from school one day and she was gone. my mom said she probably was sick and ran away to die. that was the end of my many named cat. i was very sad. just about a year ago my mom told me the truth. i went to school one day, and she took calli to the humane society and got rid of her. that's my mom for you.

    needless to say, after a rocky beginning, i have never wanted a cat again. the end.


  3. joann methinks we are running slightly parallel lives these days? we've had The Tummy Bug (from hell. my insert. you're welcome) around these here parts, and so i've had coffee-less and L-O-U-D days as well. (are all days louder w/out coffee?)
    and i do that kind of editing out loud but not actually editing myself.
    i forgot your cat was dr claw. i'm still amused by this.


  4. This is classic JoAnn and I love it, especially the part about the chasing after the garbage truck.

    Boy brains just work differently. Hair dryer as a gun? Who thinks like that? Seriously?

    May your day be delightfully free of dead cats. Unless of course Dr. Claw gets on your last good nerve. Then I don't think you could be held responsible for what you do with your hair dryer.


  5. I love reading your unedited self. It takes me back twenty years. I had three girls two, who gave boys a run for their money. I had no garbage trucks but we did have dead cats and dead dogs. But I loved to tell about it. Love this post!


  6. If you had told me this story in person, I'd have listened wide-eyed, and then shaken my head and laughed and held out the largest mug of coffee I have. My (single) boy is only 1 and doesn't reliably walk yet nor does he use hair dryers and guns or talk about Hulk… but somehow I still feel like I can sympathize because in his own 1-year-old way he is just the same as your three boys. All boy. I love him like that but I do need my coffee, and I do count down the hours until his daddy gets home – ha!

    You are a great mom.


  7. Thank you for not editing yourself. It was rather entertaining. And true. It's been raining here for days and if my boys don't get outside soon I'm going to be chasing the garbage man, mailman, UPS man, anyone pleading them to take me with them!


  8. i love your brain and your life and the fact that you head outside when the general inside area is a frothing vat of crazy. me, i look at the sub-freezing temps and send the KIDS outside. while i watch through the window. sort of.

    ps man, could i ever have used your little sis and the shredder contents back in the day. ingenious.


  9. dr. claw has pretty eyes. and i love your unedited self. it makes me laugh, which i need. (i especially loved your son's vivid description of the cat's decapitated body. i think he will grow up to be a mystery writer.)


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