Friday, April 28, 2006

 

An Empty Nest

ZMan and Miss J went apartment hunting last weekend. It was kind of a surprise to me, but very cool since the two of them have been so great together. I mean, he's talked about it for a long time, I just didn't know they were doing it right now. He came home a couple of nights ago and told me they got the apartment they applied for last week over by the San Marcos, and they are moving in pretty much right away. They'll be living just off the oldest golf course in Arizona, but before you ask, I already did. No resident discounts. Damn! I've never been in any of those apartments, but I've drilled most of them with errant golf balls at one time or another.

Anyway, this will be the first time in close to ten years that TFMCD and I have our home to ourselves.

We've also been cat-sitting for the past several months. ZMan and Miss J are taking her cat, Monkey, with them. At least they better be, or the little bugger will be living out of a shopping cart under the Mill Avenue bridge. We've been keeping Bo's cat for a while as well, but she's promised to take her home in the next week or so as well. As for myself, I can promise this:

The next cat that tries to set foot in my house is going to get drop-kicked clean into my Husky-owning neighbor's yard. To a Husky, cats taste just like chicken.

Need a cat-sitter? Call somebody else.

No more nasty-ass food that smells like a decomposed carp, no more urine so potent you can smell it in Pinal County, no more boxes of cat shit in my house. Done. Finito. Don't get me wrong, they're friendly enough little critters. It's just that neither I nor TFMCD have the time or patience to keep up with them any more.

See, when Scully needs to pinch a loaf, I just open the back door for her. No problemo. Once they solidify a bit, I pick up the jakes with a shovel and catapult them into my non-Husky owning neighbor's pool to amuse myself. OK, OK, not really. I don't throw dog turds into his pool. Just on his lawn. That's not true, either. I explained back in March '05 what really happens to them. Dogs are downright entertaining, aren't they? And if they have a little accident, the cleanup doesn't usually include Haz Mat suits, breathers, ripping out 100 square feet of ruined carpeting and jack hammering the top inch of concrete slab to get rid of the odor.

Stay back, ye little furball demons from the netherworld!

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