Wednesday, November 6, 2013

From the Archives at at Chronicles of a Family at Home - May. 21, 2008: Poof!

I have really done a disappearing act from my blog lately.  I've been caught up in my latest weight loss enterprise and just didn't have any spare brain cells left to write with. 

All day today I've had the hymn "Resting in the Arms of Jesus" running through my head.  Well, maybe not all day; just since the cat bit my baby viciously on the cheek (there's probably not a non-vicious way to bite someone).  This inspired the murderous thoughts that eventually led to my mental choice of hymns.  I've owned and hated this cat for four years.  It was abandoned at a rental house next door to us at our previous domicile and we quickly learned why.  But we felt sorry for her, so rather than abandon her a second time, we brought her with us to the house on the hill.  And we've lived to regret it.  While her name is Honey, it really should have been Lucifer, if you know want I mean.  Sure, she's all friendly when you come up on the porch, but if you make one wrong move, or stop petting her when she really wants you to continue, she'll bite.  At one time or another, she's bitten all of us.  We warn all our guests, but all are still shocked when she bites their little Johnny or Jane.   And now she's gone too far. 

My neighbor the vet says we need to keep her another 10 days to make sure she doesn't keel over from some dread disease that could impact baby.  But that cat has all her shots, so I'm not worried about her health.  But how does one do the right thing with a pet (execute it summarily at dawn, in this case) without traumatizing your children? 
My husband thinks we should try the direct approach and explain that she's simply not pet material for anyone and really, there's not another job available for cats.   His point being to convince them that sending her on to the next of her 9 lives is the right thing to do.  I, on the other hand, am still really, really mad at my mother for putting the family dog down when I was 10, so I think that's a terrible idea.  I'm thinking of calling in a hit man who'll just arrange for a sudden, unexplained disappearance.  And the kids can just believe she's found a better porch to cover with hair, or a warmer hearth, or maybe even some people that like her. 

But I'll know she's "Resting in the Arms of Jesus."  Or in her case, maybe she'll be off in the other direction... 
You can see that it might be in my children's best interest not to know exactly how mean I can be when it comes to that monstrous cat.  When you and your spouse have had to make these tough decisions about pets, how did you talk about it to your kids?  Or did you?  HELP!

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