Tax Refunds and Cats

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I didn’t have to fundraise for this adoption. I got lucky. I know this. My biggest relief in the whole giant puzzle of putting adoption financing together for Jude’s adoption came late last spring when we got our grant but the final, repeat THE FINAL, piece fell into place this evening. My tax refund will cover our expenses for Jude’s “Gotcha” trip. Oh, sweet relief!

In fact it is the perfect and total opposite end to how my day started.

I mentioned back in November (and a few times since then) that I have 2 new kittens. They have been keeping me on my toes. A training regimen really for the rigors of parenting a toddler. Nothing however will ever top what they did to me at 3:00 this morning. Let me explain:

At 3:00 (or so) this morning I leaped (literally) from a sound sleep at the sound of gunfire eminating from my basement. I do not own a firearm, nor is there one stored on the premises (to the best of my knowledge). Alone in the house except for my 4 feline companions I was freaked out. Equally freaked out was my 16-pound male cat who at the same moment that I came to a standing position on my bed he hissed, puffed, and then left me and my cell phone to our own devices.

It was absolutely still in the house. You could have heard a mouse fart. I heard nothing. NOTHING. I was still scared out of my wits and half considering making an exit out of my second story window and calling 911 from my PJs in the driveway. Thankfully, I mustered some courage after about 5 minutes of being absolutely frozen in terror and maneuvered myself off of my bed to retrieve my stun gun from my purse on my desk. Now armed with my cell phone and a taser and pseudo dressed in slippers and a sweater over my PJ’s and bra I crept ever so slowly downstairs…in an 84 year old house with all wood floors. Didn’t make a single creak. I stealthily made my way through the downstairs noting that all 3 doors remained securely locked on that level. Once I made it to the kitchen I added to my arsenal with the largest butcher knife I own (and briefly reviewed some cardiovascular anatomy in my head) before proceeding down the basement stairs…the source of the gunfire.

I had still heard nothing at this point. And mind you if I had, I probably would have screamed/tazed it/ wet myself/ stabbed it and called 911 (which was already punched into the phone waiting for me to hit the send button). But when I got to the bottom of the basement stairs the only thing I saw in the dark (for yes, my vision is good enough to see in the dark) was…

Cans.

The kittens had knocked over the recyling bin full of aluminum cans onto the basement floor then in the ensusing panic ran back through them. The sound echoing through the forced hot air heating system in an antique house sounded like gunfire from 2 floors up.

So happy I didn’t call the police for that one. Espcially since I was really only wearing a sports bra and pj pants. I didn’t get back to sleep after that. In fact, I don’t think I fully recovered from that shock until about mid-afternoon.

It would also seem that the madness has not stopped as since I started typing this blog post one of two aforementioned kittens has been discovered playing with a 3.5 inch iron nail. I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THIS CAME FROM!!! I have lived here for 4.5 years and I have never seen this object before!

Having been previous parent to 2 foster children and being current aunt to a 20 month old nephew I can confidently declare that these twin kittens are by far and away more impish that all 3 toddlers combined. I can’t wait to see what happens when Jude gets here, especially since Merry and Pippen are used to toddlers the kittens (Arwen and Eowyn)…well, not so much.

Jude’s foster father told me that she likes to play with their cat. I never did clairify what “play” meant…

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