I've been looking through old pictures tonight, from expeditions both solo as well as group, towards summits that I achieved or failed, gave up upon or surrendered to, soldiered through or anguished over, all part of a consistent narrative over the last 30+ years of my life: one spent in high and faraway places punctuated by too-long droughts amongst the mundane. It's been quite the journey. I keep the traces of everything else, too, not just those old images. I never throw anything out: all the old letters, pictures, even hastily scrawled notes, they all go into safekeeping. Why? For moments like this, to remember the complex tapestry that is the past, and to know again what it was that has made me into the man I am now.
Sometimes I think that I should just make a huge bonfire: destroy all those saved things, and perhaps roast a bratwurst or two at the same time. But what a shame that would be, I always think. To reject the past, and to willfully forget (for forget we all do, absent these physical tokens of what once was), seems like the worst kind of self-hate, particularly in a time of personal transition -- which I think this might be.
But that's not really what's on my mind right now.
No, what's on my mind is that in about a month and a half, Laura will be moving into my house as an interim step between moving from her city to mine. With her come two pretty awesome cats, and therein lies the problem.
No, the cats aren't the problem. They're pretty cool critters, these two, and endlessly amusing. (Granted, I have threatened in the past to roast Finn, the kitten, in the oven, and subsequently to eat him whole, but that's just my way of saying that he's super freaking cute. So I don't communicate well. Sue me.) Here they are, as a matter of fact; Finn is the little black fella with the white-tipped tail, and the other is Zooey, who has the sweetest cat personality that I've ever encountered, even while she's kicking Finn's ass for swatting at her tail:
No, the problem is that since they're cats, they're going to do catlike things. And so it should be: I'm smart enough about these things to realize that you don't change someone, be they cat or human; rather, you adapt to them. Cats like to jump on things, chew things, and generally be catlike. I think that I've managed to cat-proof most things (move the orchid up to a high window, put the coffee plant in another high window, keep the doors to the office with all its delightfully chewy wires closed, etc.) but there remains one last issue: the couch. I haz leather couch. (The couch pictured above is not mine.) And I have yet to find a good way to keep it in relatively good shape, but I'm pretty certain that I'm not the first person to have faced this quandary so I'm betting that there is a solution out there.
So what do I do? Cover the whole thing in plastic? Move it to the garage for a while? Invest in strategically placed scratching posts? Spray it with deer urine? Someone who used to read my old ranting must stumble across this and have a good idea, right?
On a completely unrelated note, I've just discovered Teh Awesome™ that represents the Monty Python channel on Youtube, and I believe that I can now die a truly happy man. Seriously, if you can't laugh at Monty Python, I really have to worry about you.
"Why people who have not committed any punishable offense listen to country/western music is absolutely beyond me. Reminds me of my favorite line in Python: 'Where's the pleasure in that?'"
-- John Cleese
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They have spray for furniture that cats don't like the smell of. Also, just 'cause cats are cats doesn't mean that can't be trained. Don't let 'em scratch the couch - throw them outside in the cold rain if they do!
ReplyDeleteHmm, I've heard of that stuff. I'll have to check it out. I'm a little wary about spraying something on a USD$6000 couch, but it's better than a kitten going to town on it, I suppose. Thanks!
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