They came, they saw, they . . . painted. At one point yesterday, it felt like we were the family in ET – the house surrounded by plastic and paper, strange men circling around the house doing things that were largely out of control. And then they left, taking a big wad of our money with them.
Today, in the sunlight, it’s hard not to admit that the house looks pretty damned nice. Damn that HOA – I won’t ever admit that the houses were in need of a paint job, but I will say that it looks a lot nicer today than it did yesterday morning. I’ve come to the conclusion, after looking the place over a few times in weird little spots that I know were always missing paint, that the paint job we received this weekend was on the order of several magnitude better than what came with the house when it was new 7 years ago.
What’s unfortunate is that there’s a small issue – the front a garage doors were supposed to be painted the lighter of the two colors, a semi-gloss bland-tan, and instead they were both painted the same as the rest of the house color. Not a huge deal, but when you consider how much wear and tear those two take, semi-gloss is the way to go because they can be cleaned easily. I’ll have to call tomorrow and ask if they can come back and add those two back the way they were supposed to be.
The great “meat experiment” is over. A week of feeding the cats wet, meaty food came to an explosive, messy end last night, and the end began on Friday night.
When we came home Friday, we found two little splotches of very grey puke on the bed from one of the cats. Great. Off came the sheets and on went another set as the dirtied ones spun in the wash. The next morning, just after we came back from breakfast, there was a giant, wet puddle nearly the color of our house – it’s as if one of the cats ate a bunch of paint. I cleaned that up dutifully, if annoyed, and we went on with our day. The last straw was when we got home last night, got Amanda to bed (very late – about 9 pm) and Alissa found a big pool of more tan puke in the bed, another in front of the bed with some heinous chunks, and then a few more little spatters to the side of the bed.
I began cleaning those up – very pissed – only to hear Alissa call “Oh GOD!” from room where the litter and their food is kept. In there was a nasty pumpkin-colored mass as well as a pool of dark, extremely liquid cat diarrhea. I was already angry as it was – picking up more puke in one days time from the cats than I ever had – and now there was this? I liberally doused the spots with Resolve, but, as expected, the carpet now bears the mark of where (we presume) Bentley did his thing . . . because within a few minutes, he let out a yelp and began heaving. Luckily we were able to get him on the tile before he let spew once more, only this time he hauled up a gigantic hairball. It can’t be called a hairball – it was a hair cylinder: half inch, maybe more, in diameter, about four inches long, and solid. Horrible. And the smell.
And that was that – no more meaty canned foods. Back to the dry, which posed little problem for the cats over the past 8 years. Oh, sure, they’ve had hairballs here and there, but I purposely didn’t expound about the other issue that the meat has caused this week, and that is one related, shall we say, to the litter box. See, since we got the cats, we’ve never had that “cat home” smell. I never knew why. I’ve known plenty of people who had cats and their homes had a distinct, strong, not really very pleasant odor that proved inescapable. These cats have all been outdoors cats, too, something ours are not – these are two of the most wimpy animals ever. The couldn’t survive an hour outside. And that’s fine, because they’re never going to be outside. So they’ve lived indoors their entire 8 year lives eating one thing and one thing only – dry kibble, and basically the same dry kibble that entire time. We don’t even give them little snacks except for a tiny, tiny bit of turkey here and there, and I’m talking tiny. Essentially, these cats know meat only as an instinctual concept, not as meals.
But after this past week, where they ate all meat, twice a day, and seemed, at first, very happy with that development, I have come to realize that even animals can become vegetarians of sorts. Because the looks and smells of things that filled their litter box was horrific – it was a cat-atastrophe. We came home and the house just smelled. Bad. Like “something died” bad. We thought that might go away over time, but it kept getting worse, and stronger, and more often, and then the hurling began. And then the meat ended. Dry food was put back out, and the cats swarmed it like buzzing bees again.
It looks like it was the right decision. In less than 24 hours things have changed drastically. All I can say is that the lady who wrote this piece is high. She said that the cats would be so happy and they would be happier with you, their owners, but we realized last night that Bentley had been withdrawing because he felt so bad. Today, he’s been up, purring and sitting with us a lot, happy as can be. What this lady said, what I quoted here, turned out to be opposite. So don’t take people’s advice – if your pets are happy, leave them alone. Like people, most of the time, if there’s a problem, you will know it. If there isn’t, things are usually fine. Let ’em be.