I must have been feeling reckless again or perhaps the empty nest was getting to me!
No, I’m not coo-ing over babies!
My youngest, the barista, wants a kitten like crazy and I agree. If we are going to take on the responsibility of becoming pet owners again, a cat is the best animal to start round two with.
I’d told hubs I was considering a cat and he just looked at me without saying a word. After twenty some odd years he’s learning!
So daughts and I popped off to the animal shelter and wandered into the adoptable cat room.
The smell was overpowering.
“It never seemed to smell this bad when you and your siblings volunteered here,” I noted.
Everything looked clean.
“It only takes one cat to use its just cleaned litter box to contaminate the whole area!” reminded my daughter!
I sat down on a bench and hoped I’d get used to the smell while daughts bonded with four young cats sharing one cage.
They looked like a motley bunch of calicos and all had short or crinkled tails as if they had been in some sort of scrap with a door when they were young.
Two of them hissed at her, or was it at the cat in the adjoining cage?
She lifted out the heavy purrer.
It entertained us by stalking a fly and flinging itself against the wall to swat it with its paw.
My daughter was enchanted.
Within minutes the kitten had a name,
“Stubs,” she called flicking a piece of rope she’d found. Stubs obligingly leaped and fell on her back.
I knew my clothes were going to reek when I got home! I wasn’t getting used to the smell. My eyes began to water.
Adding a second kitten (also a purrer) to the mix doubled daught’s enjoyment and while she squealed and sighed, I sneezed and sniffed.
I tried Yoga to help me with my bronchial spasms.
I couldn’t even draw a shallow breath.
I was gasping and the frolicking kittens were wearing me out.
I sat motionless while the air closed in around me.
After fifteen months of inhaler-free living I had almost forgotten what it felt like to suffocate.
I motioned to my youngest that we had to leave,
“What? We’re not going to buy one?”
“Not without thinking about it first,” I whispered.
I stood up and made my way slowly through the hallways and out into the fresh air.
“Well, Dad did say he didn’t want a cat or any pet because you hadn’t decided what you were going to be doing….” my daughter told me at the car. I could see a look of disappointment on her face.
“True,” I replied relieved that I wasn’t going to be the bad parent and desperately needing an inhaler not a conversation.
“But I could have one and I’d keep it upstairs and look after it without any help…”
My respiratory system was rebelling and I felt as though I was breathing through one of those really tiny straws Starbuck’s has as stirers.
“Just take me home,” I said.
All of a sudden I was really concerned for my heart.
The almost impossible task of squeezing even the tiniest bit of air into my lungs was proving to be very demanding.
Even standing was a challenge.
At home I carefully walked to the bathroom pretending I was deliberately holding my breath to cut down on the panic feelings growing in my gut.
I took the ventolin first to get my airwaves clear. The first puff was a write off, it hit the back of my throat and I spluttered. The second one was shallow, the third I managed to hold for a moment.
I sat down and concentrated on drawing breath.
Daughts sat with me. When she sensed I was re-gaining control she resumed her persuasive rationalising for cat ownership,
“I really want something to love, to cuddle to snuggle with at night…”
My little attack of oxygen deprivation hadn’t phased her at all!
“I miss bottle feeding the raccoons!
“Thor was so cute!”
“You just want to be a Mum!” I said, getting my puff back.
“Yes! I do…well, not until I’m married,” she said hurriedly!
“What happens to the cat when you move to New York or London?” I asked, feeling a little light headed but definitely more aeriated.
“I’ll give her back.”
“You can’t do that! It’s not fair on the kitten.” Gosh, hadn’t I taught stewardship?
The two of us sat lost in our broodiness.
For the time being I’m not willing to risk my heart for a playful kitten!
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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