Who Says Black Cats are Unlucky?

Rachel: Don't be mad
Bryon: Now, I'm already mad.
Rachel: I said don't be mad.
Bryon: What did you do?
Rachel: I wasn't thinking. It was instinct. Try to think of it as a good quality, my sweet nature, my loving heart, my willingness to help those in need.
Bryon: Oh god.
Rachel: I let the cat in.
Bryon: Go let it out. Now. We're not keeping it.
Rachel: No.
Bryon: Now.
Rachel: I already love it.


Thus the beginning of our relationship with Azriel.

She's a stray that's been wandering our neighborhood oh these past four months. I fed her for a few weeks, then felt guilty about it and stopped because, well, she was obnoxious and felt like the neighbors shouldn't have to hear her howling.

Well, yesterday she came back after about a month long hiatus. She was so sad, so lonely, so tiny, so meek, so hungry. Oh, woe is Azriel. Yes, you should never name a stray cat. Because you know what happens if you name a stray cat? She's your cat.


So, I let her in. Rephrase: I dragged her in. I put her in the bathroom and quarantined her away from the other animals, lest she be be-plagued with some weird disease that she could infect my pets with, until she could be seen by a vet. Rephrase: until a vet could charge us to tell us that she's perfectly fine.

She took this imprisonment with the usual attitude of a cat. She hid behind the toilet. After an hour or so, she came out and expressed equal amounts of love for my legs, arms, hands and cabinetry in the bathroom. She rubbed on everything in sight and fell about in seizures of rolling and that weird kneading thing that cats do. She was positively in love with the house. Oh, how could we put her back outside in that cruel, cruel world?

Especially upon the vet's kind news that she was already spayed, hip-hip-hooray! That means we don't have to pay the extra money to do that! Bryon was pleased. I was pleased that the prior owner, who did, in fact, have her chipped, was willing to relinquish her to me (Bryon, not so much). Oh, Azriel, I was happy to keep you.........


Until you crapped on my counter. Then all over the house, in projectile fashion. Bloody, projectile fashion. Oh, did I mention the vomit? The vomit that was actually poop coming out of her mouth. Yes folks, bloody cat poop, coming out of her mouth. Not so cute anymore.

Yes, folks, Azriel, in her first two days in our house managed to rack up three vet visits, two of them at the emergency, after hours vet. Apparently, she had what the vet can only guess at. She either reacted to the vaccine, or had something that one of the vaccines was vaccinating against and her body was thus, expelling it. Yummy.


Oh, and by the way, on the second trip to the emergency, after hours, not so cheap veterinary clinic, I hit a tree in the parking lot with the car. I tore the mirror off the car and scratched the crap-ola out of the car. Did you know that busy pine trees have branches, BRANCHES!! in them?



Rachel: Don't be mad. (crying this time) Please. Please. I love you.
Bryon: (silence)
Rachel: Please
Bryon: What now. The cat?
Rachel: I hit a tree.
Bryon: What?
Rachel: I don't know how to get home.
Bryon: Bungee cord it to the car.


And that my friends, is why I married an engineer.


P.S. He's not mad. And Azriel is doing fine. She's not a big fan of Eddie just yet; but she's pretty sweet.