The Misadventures of Cheri

Mortifying my kids one swimsuit at a time

In which I cry hot burning tears of fury

on June 8, 2009

Our current foster kitties. Awfully cute, aren’t they??

It was one of those days. It started out quite nice . . . . sleeping in, kids not sick of each other yet (it’s day 2 of summer break) and I had me some great aspirations. I was going to clean out the school room – aka the dining room – aka the room that homeschool ate – and turn it into sewing central. I’ve been working on this project for the kids Wednesday school teachers. Oh what promise the day held.

At some point around noon, I happened to walk over and look out the glass door. There, outside is Gwen (feel free to boo and hiss at this point like the Jews do when they hear Haman’s name on Purim) with a kitten in her mouth. I don’t know WHAT she’s doing to the kitty, but kitty is not happy.

I immediately run outside and try to get said kitty. Gwen (again, feel free to make boisterous noise) drops the kitty realizing the trouble she’s in. Kitty then bolts under our deck. At this point, I should have seen that my day is ruined . . . . . R-U-I-N-E-D. But I don’t.

We try everything to get Tiger out from under the deck. The problem is, we can’t see her. At all. The ground under the deck isn’t even and there are support beams blocking our view. After about thirty minutes, Amber sees Tiger. So we decide to wait her out. I bring out her food, tuna fish, a toy I rattle now and then but nothing.

We try stomping on the deck, Tyler got a long knife I use for gardening (shhhhhhhh . . . . .) and went all in between the slats on the deck. Nothing. Not even a mew. We know where she is because Belle keeps going under the deck and whining in the same location. Of course, it’s way up against the house; a spot we have no hopes of getting to.

Tyler then breaks out the hose. He squirts it all under the deck and on top. Belle got caught in the crossfire and was all splattered with dirt. Still no Tiger. He got out an extremely long piece of left over trim board and poked and scooted it all under the deck. I probably don’t have to tell you that he had no luck with this, either.

I tell everyone to go inside and I’ll just wait for her. I sat and read. And read. And read. I’m reading the Bible through in a year and was 3 days behind . . . . not anymore. I’m reading Girl Meets God by Lauren Winner. I think I easily 100 pages today. I was out there for hours. Thankfully, it was neither too hot nor too cold.

Twice, Gwen (do I even need to prompt you?) brought the kitty out. And let her down before I could get near her and Tiger bolted back under the deck in a split second. Awhile after the second bolt, Tyler came out and I think said something like, “You’re still out here?” This would be when the hot burning tears of fury started. And maybe some incoherent babbling, but I’m not sure.

Bless my husband’s heart, he was all set to go on a run, but he decided we were getting Tiger come heck or high water. And he proceeded to take out two boards from our deck. The first one wasn’t close enough to her (of course it wasn’t) and we couldn’t get her. Even Austin with his long, skinny arm couldn’t get to her.

So up came another board.

Finally, about four hours after it started Austin was able to reach her. She was wet and covered in dirt, but just fine. I brought her in, gave her a bath and she’s back to normal tonight.

And today would be where our fostering of kitties ends. I cannot live like this. Gwen is a wonderful dog and we love her . . . . . she just has a thing for kittens. Oh well. Thankfully, the kitties go back tomorrow and I’m taking everything I got from the Humane Society with them. And turning in my resignation of sorts.

Stupid dog.

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