the cat, my swine flu and some benadryl

Jordan is a cat person.

Always has been.

She's always wanted one of those cats that just cuddles with you and sleeps all the time... you know the one?

This year for Christmas, Justine and I happened to drive by one of those "free kitten" people who sit in the WalMart parking lot. I don't know what happened to me. I totally lost all ability to make decisions. We loaded up that little tiny kitten and took it home.

Jeff got home that night, and I confessed what I had done.

"Don't you think this is something we might have wanted to talk about?"

"Probably."

This cat is insane. He uses our living room as a racetrack. He jumps from one thing to the next, ending up teetering precariously on the bookshelf or on top of the TV. And then he does the whole routine in reverse.

She named him Mr. Rogers, although I've never seen him as serene or sedate as the real Mr.Rogers. We all wanted to call him Kung Fu Kitty...

Absolute maniac of a cat Mr. Rogers is, but rarely cuddly.

Very rarely.

__________________________________________________


I get sick about twice a year, and when I do, I usually do it up right.

And when I do get sick, our semi-chaotic, yet halfway organized existence comes to a screeching halt.

Friday I woke up feeling a bit under the weather, but I was able to make it through most of school. By 3pm, I pretty much felt like I had been not only hit by a truck, but also drug quite a ways by said truck. I crawled into bed and stayed there all night.

Saturday was pretty much the same.

I got up for awhile, and tried to do some laundry and clean the house a bit, but I definitely was not my pleasant, friendly, patient self.

I think my kids miss me being functioning as much as I miss functioning.

____________________________________________________

The few days I was sick, the kids did their best to help out. They at least checked on me occasionally; brought me water intermittently. Basically treated me like a house plant... but I digress.

Last night, Justine was opening the tiny, childproof package of cold medicine and Benadryl for me because I couldn't get it open. At this point, I am desperate to kick this and get back to normal. I will take any amount of decongestant possible to make my nose quit running. I can no longer even make saliva because I am so histamine blocked.

Medicine head? Uh, no. I had complete medicine neurological system. I was barely coordinated enough to walk... "right foot, left foot, repeat."

Justine hands me the opened package of Benadryl. My fingers fumble around it as if I were wearing invisible, furry mittens. The Benadryl drops to the floor almost matrix style, slow motion, turning, twisting, bouncing as it hit the floor. I am in awe. I just watch as it bounces, once, twice, just twisting flashes of pink. Wow. So pink.

I don't even make a move toward the Benadyl. Nope. Didn't move a muscle.

Just stood there, staring at the pink pill on the floor.


Then suddenly, Mr. Rogers gobbles it up.

________________________________________________



And so I spent most of the night waking up the cat, making sure he's still breathing. I would pick him up and move him from chair to couch or vice versa and then he would settle in, going back to sleep immediately. Sometimes he would just sleep sitting up.

I know. I know. But I warned you what a horrible pet owner I was a while back, didn't I?

I did enjoy the cuddle for awhile.

He looks a little hung over this morning... I kinda like it.