I Never Thought I'd See the Day

 

This week, I’ve found myself doing things that surprised me. Aged 54, living a relatively comfortable life, it would be easy to get into a rut. Get up, make packed lunches, herd children into car, drop off at school, buy bananas and stuff from Melton Produce on the way home (I don’t know what my parents do with them, but I can’t keep up with demand), load the dishwasher, put on a wash, get down to work. That’s pretty much how every day looks and that’s fine. Work these days involves all kinds of thrilling things. This week, I conducted one interview with a 22-year old Christian mission worker in Manchester, drafted my Christmas blog for More Than Writers, wrote up a piece on writer and stand-up Paul Kerensa, conducted a lifestyle interview on a beautiful Cambridge house and started editing my novel, The Diary of Isabella M Smugge.

Interesting stuff.

But it is not that of which I speak. Anyone who knows me knows I am not really an animal person. My philosophy has always been to keep animals who benefit the household in some way. Our chickens and quail lay eggs for us and in return enjoy a happy life being fed, watered and given plenty of space in which to amble. Dogs are a no-no due to all the time and attention they need. I just haven’t got that time and it wouldn’t be fair to have one. Mr Leigh is mildly allergic to cats and I am terrified of them, so we’ve always set our faces against the suggestions from the children that a cute little kitten might be a nice addition to the family.

As I told you back in June (https://bigwordsandmadeupstories.blogspot.com/2020/06/its-been-quiet-week-in-lake-wobegon.html), we adopted a kitten aged three weeks very much to our surprise (and, presumably, hers). Now a cheerful little thing aged around five months, she has somehow managed to get us all wrapped around her velvety little paws. She has not one but two beds, bought by my besotted husband and daughter to keep her warm at night. “You put the base in the microwave and it heats up,” they told me, returning from a trip to a well-known pet store not a million miles from here. “She’ll love it.” She doesn’t. It’s been completely ignored until we discovered the other day that if we put it in front of the Rayburn when it’s lit, she’ll curl up in it and go to sleep.

A kitten scratching post set provided entertainment until she got too big to squeeze through the furry tube. A crackly mat is also largely ignored. What she does love, more than anything, is Nerf gun bullets. She will play with them for hours and the house is littered with them. Also scraps of paper and random pieces of fluff. Just like young children, if you buy her a toy, she’ll play with the box. There’s a life lesson for us all there.

A couple of weeks ago, my husband and I were in the kitchen having a conversation that I would never have thought possible.

Him: “Have you thought about what we should get Misty for Christmas?”

Me: “We should get her a little stocking, don’t you think? How about some antlers?”

Him: “Definitely a stocking and maybe some cat treats. I’ll have a look in that well-known pet store not a million miles from here.”

Me: “How about we get her one of those big scratching posts for her main present?” 

At this point, we broke off and uttered the phrase that has become a daily occurrence.

“I never thought I’d see the day…..”

There will be some people reading this who are spluttering into their coffee at this point. Lynette, Cathy, Steph, you have known me long enough to find this kind of kitten-based chat hilarious. It gets worse.

 Yesterday, Misty paid a visit to the vet to be spayed. She returned home in good spirits with the instruction that we should put a protective cone over her head so she didn’t scratch herself. We all tried. We did. In ones, in twos, in threes. We ended up scratched and traumatised. When we did manage to get it on to her, she wrenched it off. I found myself ringing the vet and asking if they could suggest anything else. “We can give you a kitten vest if you like. It’s a bit like a Babygro.”

And so, we returned from the vet with a kitten clad in a rather natty navy-blue suit. Which she ripped off after an hour and refuses to wear.

At some point in the next few weeks, I will be looking at a kitten Christmas stocking bought by the aforesaid husband and daughter, and instead of screeching, “Have you lost your MINDS?” I will be smiling benevolently and working out what to put in it. And whether to wrap it.

Ah yes, life. It has a habit of sneaking up on you in the most unlikely ways. I never thought I’d see the day.

Images by Pixabay and Unsplash.

Ruth is a freelance writer and novelist. She is married with three children, one husband, four budgies, six quail, eight chickens and a kitten. Her first novel, “The Diary of Isabella M Smugge”, published by Instant Apostle, comes out in March 2021. She writes for a number of small businesses and charities and blogs at Big Words and Made Up Stories. Ruth is a recovering over-achiever who is now able to do the school run in her onesie most days. She has abnormally narrow sinuses and a morbid fear of raw tomatoes, but has decided not to let this get in the way of a meaningful life. You can find her on Instagram and Twitter at ruththewriter1.