I spent an hour in line, dodging people not wearing masks standing in the 95 degree parking lot of the home despot waiting to rent the rug doctor.
I spent 6 hours cleaning the carpets. It isn’t that dragging around the rug doctor isn’t tiring; it is. But it’s the fact that I was working on a hot day spraying hot water. So sweaty and dehydrated.
And of course the real work with cleaning the carpet is the moving around all of the furniture. Everything has to be moved at least twice. Sometimes more.
But 6 hours, and the carpet is clean.
Then I wash the walls. When is the last time you washed your walls? I’ve never done it before. While I’m doing all this, my beautiful bride is downstairs giving every corner in the house a devil of a time. All those cobwebs way up high in the corner? Got ‘em. Moved the couch and cleaned up all that dog hair? Yup. Empty and rearrange cupboards? Of course.
Everything is so fresh and clean smelling. The only bad part of the house is the 12 year old’s room, but we plan to just seal off that room when she finally moves out. We’ve already decided to cut our losses there.
Now one thing about having our 15 year old cat is that he has un-litter box trained himself. For the past two years, he is only going on puppy pads, which is at least as gross and certainly more spendy that litter. But for the past month, he stopped using those, and started to just pee his nasty cat pee on the floor along the tub. Every morning for two months, waking up and having to mop up cat pee? R.A.G.E.
So the cat got locked out of the bathroom. He already has lost privileges to most rooms in house for just this type of behavior. He is a monster. I’m too weak to just twist his neck shut, but I think about it. I do. And we won’t take him to the vet because they only want to put him on hundreds of dollars of pills. He is an ass. There is no cure for that. Physically healthy. Mentally malignant.
They cat is now basically relegated to the downstairs, on a cat tree. There is nice animal flap I installed so the dogs and cat can come an go as the please to use the facilities.
We rest. Our slumber is total and comfortable. Our room is clean. I dream of mop buckets and magic erasers.
My beloved wife rises early that Sunday morning. She likes to go downstairs and watch movies before #1 daughter and I wake. Not this day.
She yells up the stairs “WHY IS THERE BLOOD ALL OVER THE WALL??!?!”
My mind races. I know that the love of my life can be a little on the dramatic side. Its funny about her; I find it adorable. I also know that, deep in my heart, something is dead somewhere. I hope it is the cat, no such luck.
I know it isn’t the cat because I turn my head opposite before I descend the stairs to see what Mary is yelling out, and I see it. One of the biggest rats I’ve ever seen. Thankfully dead on the floor in front of the closed bathroom door. Blood everywhere. EVERYWHERE.
This rat was legit 8 inches, not counting the tail. Big fella. Stiff as a board. Apparently it died from blood loss.
I of course had already returned the rug doctor. So I have blamed the cat for this gruesome and frankly yucky redecorating job. Blood on the bathroom door. On the carpet. On the wall. On the stairs landing carpet and wall.
I asked the dogs, they claimed ignorance. I explained that I expect THEM to be killing any rats, and to do it outside. The cat won’t talk without his lawyer present (which he wants me to pay for). My father suggested I question the gerbils, but their counsel (Ashley, age 12) claims they have an alibi and where with her all night.
So as it stands now, I have charged the cat with a vengeance act meant to punish all for locking him out of the bathroom. The newspapers are saying the cat did it as a peace offering, a gesture of goodwill to re-earn a place in our hearts as well as our bathroom. I don’t buy it. He is too much of a creep to do anything that helps others. No, this was premeditated. He waited until the carpet had been cleaned and he did the dirty. The dogs have thoroughly investigated the crime scenes, but haven’t been any help. And to say nothing of the rat, who nobody claims to know.
2020; give it a rest will you?