The Results May Vary

Observations from my Mixed Up World

No Maya, the house is not haunted.

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Lately our house seems haunted.  I don’t mean things mysteriously moving or seeing ghostly projections.  Our haunting is all about sounds.  Inhuman wailing sounds.  The kinds of sounds that tormented souls in Hell are expected to make.  The sounds that make all of the hair on your head stand up.  Yup, the kitten went in to heat.

As much as I’d like to blame nature or the increased amount of daylight we’re receiving, I can’t.  Not that I’d be allowed to blame anything or anyone else, since for 3 months my wife has been gently and not so gently reminding me to make an appointment for Ginger to get fixed.  Despite the eloquence and insight you’ve come to expect from me, and I shudder to shatter your image of me, I confess that I really need a deadline to get things done.  Since the cat didn’t have a label on her saying “Best spay this cat before May 2013”, I wasn’t driven to make the call.  There are 3 humans and 4 felines in the house that aren’t appreciating my lack of urgency.  Sigh.

I can live with disappointing people but karma really did reach out and kick me in the ass last night.  I have a ritual I need follow every night or I can’t sleep.  I go down stairs, ensure every cat is in the house and has food in their bowls.  Then I check each door and window to ensure they’re shut, locked and blinds down.  Then and only then can I retreat upstairs and set the house alarm.  I’ve been nervous of the dark since I was a kid and when I do my nightly checks, I’m pretty certain there’s an axe murderer around every corner.  Having kids that leave doors unlocked and not discovering them until 11 pm is cause for a house search, since the murderers have likely had time to find a good hiding spot.  Despite knowing how unlikely there is anyone in the garage, I always expect a wandering, hungry vampire to slam the door right into my face when I open it to check the big door is closed.  And I never, ever, ever leave a knife on the counter since that is a clear invitation for the universe to hire someone to plunge it into me in an ironic gesture.

With that insight into my nighttime paranoia, imagine I went into my darkened dining room to close the open window when unbeknownst to me, Ginger has crept up behind me with her kitty cat stealth.  Her unholy yowl definitely stopped my heart.  What horrible and tortured creature possessed my tiny orange and white ball of love, I cannot imagine.  The immediate flood of adrenaline gave me the superpower to leap backwards over the dining room table and kick started my heart like a million joule defibrillator.  Oh I was alive but for how long???  It was a split second later that rational clarity reminded me of Ginger’s affliction and I nearly collapsed in relief.  Of course, I couldn’t sleep for 2 more hours and a dram or two of whiskey.  At least my wife had the grace to drift off to sleep with a smug smile on her face and chose not to thank the universe for providing that pay back she was still planning.

Operation is on Tuesday.  Add Ginger to your prayers that day.  Thanks.


Author: theresultsmayvary

Civil Servant Dad is a Gen-Y married father of 2 kids. He blogs about the perils, ethical and moral quandries and downright crazy challenges faced in raising them.

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