Parenting Without A License

Crazy Cat Lady

07 Jul 2011 1 Comment

by runswithdiapers in Stupid does not descriminate

Let me start this story by stating that Hannah asked me for a kitty about a month ago and I told her she could have one when we moved into our new house. Since I made her that promise, I’ve been thinking about what kind of cat would be best, considering that she is very three and not so gentle, and I also have little Katelynn to worry about. So, in my infinite mommy-wisdom, I decided an older cat would be better than a kitten so I could get a better idea of what the cat’s temperament would be like around my children. Good plan, right?

If I’m honest, my motivation to get a cat was accelerated along by the mouse I found, and caught…alive…in my apartment and threw out on the porch. It gives me the heebee-geebees just thinking about it! Ick!!! But that’s a separate blog post all together. Let’s just say, I was suddenly uber excited to get a cat, sooner rather than later.

Enter “The House of Mews”: a feline-rescue shelter on South Cooper in Memphis. There’s a feel-good moment for you! I wasn’t just getting a cat, but I was adopting some precious, abandoned unwanted kitty who desperately wanted a family to love it! Awww! I already pictured myself writing out the donation check to the cause, picking out the best litter pan and cat toys, and carting my little kitty home for Hannah to love as it purred to it’s little hearts content. I was psyched! And Hannah was psyched as I prepared her for what it would be like to pick out her new pet.

We waited until 4pm when they opened and headed inside. “House of Pew” is a more appropriate name. To say it was rank is a gross understatement. It smelled like I shoved a litter pan UP my nose! Cats were everywhere: in baskets, on furniture, locked in cages. It was awful. But I held my breath and pushed on…why? Because I love my child and she was all giggly and jittery with excitement like only a three year old can be.

So, from the minute we walked through the door (myself, Hannah, Katelynn, my sister and her two kids), the owner was having a fit. Her first comment was, “I guess it’s Zoo Day today!” Rude. But I ignored it because, yes, we are quite the crew. Women with children. Sucks for you. But then she said it again, louder. And again. She kept fussing about the kids touching the cats and talking about how the kids are covered in disease and would make the cats sick. Really?! Because I was thinking the same thing about your cats touching MY KIDS. She refused to help us and I should have left, but when it comes to keeping promises to my child, I can suck up other people’s stupidity.

Fortunately, there was a very friendly volunteer who helped us choose just the right kitty and handed me an application. Yes, apparently, you are not pre-approved like Visa and MasterCard. So I filled it out and the part that asked “Who are you buying this cat for?”, I proudly checked the box that said: My Child. Another proud mommy moment. I LOVE doing things for my kids. More than anything. Unfortunately, Devil Cat-Lady used that as an opportunity to interrogate me. Why did I not check: Myself? Would this not be a family cat? How was I going to keep the kids from letting the cat out?

I ever so patiently, and with great restraint, and yes…as HARD as it was, very little sarcasm…satisfied all her answers which drove her crazy. She didn’t want us to have the cat. She laughed at the fact that I told her my children could not let the cat out because, well, THEY don’t leave my sight and wander out open doors so there was no way they’d be letting the cat out! Are you kidding me? They are three and four months! They don’t get to go potty, or to bed for that matter, without me. She then told me she didn’t think I was responsible enough for a cat with the children, especially since I was getting the cat for my child instead of myself, and this was a huge problem. She would take my number, run my application through three animal protection agencies, and give me a call IF we were approved. (No, I swear…I couldn’t make this stuff up!) Like credit bureaus, only for cat-ownership? Do you get a credit score?

So, in other words, we were DENIED. I can raise two kids by myself, but obviously, I am too shady to care for an animal that’s barely one step up from a squirrel. It’s a cat, lady, not a child from Ethiopia. Where’s Brad and Angelina when you need them? Anyway, I told her to just tear up the application and not worry about, which she promptly did with a big fat smile on her face before I could even finish my sentence. So glad I didn’t have a really sharp pencil in my hand, because I genuinely wanted to poke her eye out after I explained to my crushed child that, no, we wouldn’t be taking a kitty home from there.

After I loaded the kids in the car, I was stewing so hard, I couldn’t see straight. So I went back inside and lost it on her. I told her how incredibly rude and disrespectful she was and how horrible it was for my child. She was completely unapologetic and told me my child needed more than a cat. I couldn’t speak to her anymore after that, so I just told her I would pray for her and left.

I’m not sure if you can pray for the Devil, but I’ll try. I left feeling sorry for Hannah, and for the poor kitty that could have come home with a loving and adoring family, but will now sleep in a cage of cat poo for heavens knows how long. All because this nasty woman has hatred in her heart for children. What has to happen to you in your lifetime to make you that incredibly mean?

However, always one to look at the bright side, or my version anyway, I left grateful that I don’t go home everyday smelling like a cat crapped on my face.