Monday, March 7, 2011



Molly is the most recent addition to our family.

I know what some of you are thinking: AGAIN!?!

Let me explain.

A few months back, when Kyle came home from his first trip to the Bahamas, he mentioned harboring the idea of adding a new member to the family. One of the feline sort. This was HUGE. Vada and I have been poking at him, sometimes even stabbing at him, for years now trying to convince him to let us get a cat. A feeble attempt to weaken his stipulation about cats in any home that he lives in. When he said that he was slightly possibly considering the idea of getting a cat I couldn't constrain my smile. He only requested that we avoid the topic all together until after the holidays.

Sure. Whatever you want.

Just over a week ago an urge to scan came over me. I spent about twenty minutes that afternoon looking at different cats, trying to find a few to show Kyle later that evening. When later that evening came it was as if I had made up Kyle's whole I'm-thinking-about-thinking-of-getting-a-cat. I pleaded with him a little and something in his heart caved...barely.

And here are the regulations that Kyle put in place regarding the type of feline allowed into our home:
  1. The shedding of the cat had to be minimal.
  2. It had to have short fur.
  3. It must be declawed.
  4. It is not allowed on our furniture.
  5. It is absolutely not EVER allowed to step a single paw into our bedroom.
Please keep in mind, as I had to, that the extent of Kyle's experience with having a pet growing up was a couple of guinea pigs that his mom took care of because her kids didn't want to. The things had either died or his mom found a new home for them a WEEK before any of the kids even noticed that they were missing. Oh, and they had a couple fish, but who forms a bond with a goldfish?

I explained to Kyle that trying to keep a cat off of the furniture, if that is what the cat so desires to do, would be tough. It would be nearly impossible to keep the cat out of our bedroom unless we kept the door closed ALL THE TIME, which we all know will never happen.

He was not budging. Those were the rules, and if we couldn't find a cat that could obey them then we would not be getting one.

Although a huge part of me was ready to accept that challenge, the sane part of me was not going to be dropping $25-$50 every week on a new cat because this one and that one couldn't comply to the house rules. So, needless to say, I gave up...on the cat. Let's look at dogs!

We scrolled through page after page of dogs in local shelters. We were about to call the search quits when we came across a hound dog. Her big sad eyes looking at us through the computer screen, begging for us to pick her up and bring her home. Neither one of us could resist.

The next day Broden, Angel, and I, along with someone else whose identity shall remain unknown, drove an hour and a half to the Fallon Animal Control Office to pick up Molly, f.k.a. Geri. When they brought her out to meet us she was shaking with fear, and her skin was wrapped so tightly around her that you could see just about every bone in her body.

I'll take her.

It took her a few days to get comfortable in our home, and I had to drench her food in bacon grease to get her to eat that first night. Her second day here I noticed that she was very snotty, and I don't mean her attitude. She was sneezing out mucus and making horrible noises very similar to those a teenage boy makes when trying to dislodge a loogie from his sinus cavity.

Mr. Vet said she had an upper respiratory infection that a weeks worth of amoxicillin should cure. If she stopped eating then call A.S.A.P.

She has one more day of medication left to finish and is still making that teenager-with-a-loogie sound and sneezing here and there, but nothing near as bad as it was a week ago, and her appetite is not lacking. She goes back to Mr. Vet tomorrow for her rabies vaccine if he declares her well enough.

Keeping my fingers crossed.

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