Today, as the father’s day breakfast of coffee and lovingly burnt ham & cheese croissant digest in my tummy, I write to you of another head shaking time at the Way household.
I am a cat lover, but of the short hair type, not the long haired flea-farming-fluff-balls that tumbleweed though our home leaving hair over my washing, my carpet, my hard floors and my lounges. You see I married a girl who loves Persians, and I a Siamese & Burmese lover. Nothing wrong with that; we started out married life by keeping (or being kept by) one Persian (Watson) and one Siamese (Holmes) who got on famously as did the Arthur Conan Doyle characters. Sadly they are no longer with us and have been replaced over the years by a succession of cats: Mrs Hudson, the Persian and Moriaty, the Burmese. And lately, the subject of the threads above; Lestrade the Persian and Mycroft the Exotic.
My gripe started earlier in the year when SWMBO and The Daughter bought home the new kittens. Not only did I miss out on the purchase decision but I missed out on the selection process too. Not to mention the sheer expense involved. Subsequently I’ve had to put up with two long haired cats. Mycroft may look like a short hair, but his coat is quite thick and deep.
Lestrade
Mycroft
Over the months since then the two kittens have been dragged to three cat shows. The running joke was the first show was going to be a first and only cat show. Sif that was going to happen. As each show ended SWMBO was keen to do it again. There’s another in the planning. Anyway, they’ve done quite well; the latest tally is Best Kitten, Best of Breed, Third Place Best Kitten, Top Ten and Top Five. There are ribbons & rosettes from the different shows plastered on the walls.
Naturally, being the head of the household, when I’m cleaning the floors, vacuuming the carpets, brushing the lounges and clothes of cat hair I’ve put my two cents worth in. The lines are wearing thin but I complain about the imposition of the extra cleaning, the lack of decision making, the shear cost and vet fees, and the lack of actually not having the type of cat I like as insult to my injury.
“Look at this! All the cat hair on the lounge! And I didn’t even want a long hair!”
“Oh God, not again, I am sick of cleaning cat hair off my good jacket! A Siamese wouldn’t shed like this!”
“Darling, wife, you should have seen the number of vacuum bags of hair I got off the floors today; it takes ages to clean them properly”
It went on.
For seven months.
Today, SWMBO got even.
Father’s Day.
I should have seen the signs, but being merely male I didn’t. After seventeen years of marriage you’d think I could pick it?
On reflection the first clanger was at the birthday lunch in a restaurant for my father-in-law. The Daughter had wanted to get a short haired cat so I would stop moaning. But then she always wants more animals; story about the mice in this household is waiting its turn to be posted. Anyway, over the months SWMBO and I have said no for many reasons. But SWMBO is a bit soft with money, the love of cats and our daughter. So each time they’ve trekked off to another show I have been at home worrying about what they were doing. Thankfully, SWMBO and The Daughter have come home with no change to the cat population.
Anyway, back to the restaurant. Father-in-Law asks how the new kitten is doing. SWMBO is not at the table at the time so my eyes shoot straight to The Daughter. The look of innocence is not convincing but she protests there is no new kitten. I suspect that the truth is out there and pursue the conversation later with SWMBO. After a few days and the absence of any kitten I put the Father-in-Law comment down to the confusion of an 85 year old on his birthday. That was in late July. Just after the last cat show.
Then came the second clanger. About a week ago SWMBO and The Daughter went off on a Sunday afternoon shopping trip leaving me with The Son at his Football presentation day. It was an afternoon of company among friends with picnic food and plenty of wine to go around. The sun was shining, it was a mild end-of-winter day, the kids were playing cricket and all was good with the world. I thought it funny that SWMBO would want to leave so soon to do some shopping but put it down to the fact that she rarely has free time and this was probably the last chance she could race off to get a fathers day gift from the children for me and one for her father. We’re short of money at the moment and short on crockery for the kitchen. The set we have is about ten years old and we’re down to our last three bread and butter plates. To economise I suggested we give me a new crockery set for father’s day. All agreed, except The Son who couldn’t give two hoots about plates and cups. (Last year, for economy reasons, I asked for a new cutlery setting, which “we” received) I am kind to my family, I make sacrifices. I desperately need a new video card, but new crockery will have to do.
So there I am, sitting blissfully and ignorant in the sun whilst SWMBO was off buying gifts. The real destination only came to light this morning.
Just to prove how “male” I am the third clanger went past with the stealth that only women on a mission can deliver. We were to go to a dinner at a friends place last night, and to help economise I arranged earlier in the week for The Son to stay over at a mates place even though it was the night before Father’s Day. At first SWMBO thought it was a dumb idea, as most of my ideas are to her. Nothing suspicious there. Anyway, the next day she agreed and she volunteered to collect The Son before breakfast.
The cat’s probably out of the bag now and you’ve gathered what they were planning, so read on and see how I was duped yet again.
We need to go back not to the last cat show but the one before in June. It was probably then, that SWMBO gave in to The Daughter and they decided on a new kitten. Evil are the ways of women folk when they plan. These are the events as best I can squeeze from them:
The Daughter contrives with SWMBO to give me a kitten. Perhaps they did it to stop my whining, perhaps they just wanted another.
They order the kitten from a breeder in Tamworth… six hours north of Sydney.
They arrange for the breeder to bring him to the next show.
They meet at the show in August but the breeder brings the wrong kitten in her haste when packing for the trip.
They arrange to ship the correct kitten down the week before Father’s day to another breeder a few suburbs away. God knows how much that cost!
SWMBO and The Daughter take off on that lovely Sunday afternoon to visit the newly arrived kitten leaving me to drink up the wine. “Mere male is not match for our trickery” must have thought as they drove not to the shopping centre but to the breeder at Mt Colah.
They doubled back and bought the crockery later in the day.
I arrange for The Son to stay at a friends place and SWMBO obviously cottons on that this suits her fine: she can leave the house early on Sunday morning with the excuse to collect The Son.
She wakes early and leaves the house, I hear the car go down the drive.
She drives to the breeder and collect the kitten.
She picks up The Son and some croissants & ham.
I’ve rolled over and gone back to sleep, the red wine from the dinner the night before giving me ample reason.
Some time later I hear noises from the going on with the preparation of the burning of croissants and the waking of The Daughter. It’s a great awakening with my family close to me and very affectionate. They present me with a book and surprise! A crockery set. I read the school made father’s day cards and am content I have a lovely family.
SWMBO returns to the room with a bundle that meows as she walks up the hall. I know instantly that it’s a Siamese meow and not a fluff-ball meow.
In her arms is an impossibly small wide eyed blue point Siamese kitten who immediately snuggles into my waiting arms. He’s so affectionate and purring and all good things that a proper short haired cat can be.
Then the events of the past weeks all flood back into my mind as I wonder where in the world this kitten came from. I shot laser guided “eyes” at SWMBO but they melted before reaching her because of the loving smile she was radiating back at me. Dang, Women.
Anyhow, I’ve named him Murphy in keeping with the Sherlock Holmes theme that’s been running in this family for 17 wonderful years.
Murphy
Fluff-balls Lestrade and Mycroft are quite miffed and are giving us a hard time over the new arrival. No cat enjoys, or will tolerate, a younger cuter kitten. Vanity runs strong in the feline world and these guys realise there’s a new bloke on the block and are sulking.
In the end, my economising ways: cutlery & crockery father’s day gifts instead of the video card, and not fixing the dishwasher, but volunteering to look after it “manually” to save money, the farming out of The Son to save on babysitters, (the list is long) is all out the window with
the purchase of a new kitten, shipping and incoming vets fess, food bills and all the responsibilities of owning a lovely, affectionate and proper cat. :)Oh, and the twin LCD screens I lusted after? I managed to secure a job and splurge on two 19" screens in June 2005. :)
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