It’s probably not the Monday morning text message the Carpenter was expecting when he checked his phone in the early hours on the job site, but it’s the one he got.
It read: “Heidi had a giant poop today. It was disgusting. And then she ate a lot. I am so happy.” To which he replied sincerely, “Yay.”
If you think that isn’t the most endearing, affectionate conversation between two people very much in love with one another, you simply don’t know the Carpenter and I. This is our marital bliss.
To backtrack, Heidi is our cat, a lovely grey and white kitty whose former person needed to find her a new home. Our family agreed to adopt her, including the Carpenter, the same man who said, “There is no way we are having another (insert your own series of expletives) pet in this house.” All it took to convince him was a promise I would not talk during our binge watching of a vile, violent drama series on Netflix (I bit my lip a lot).
Heidi has ruled the roost since her arrival last autumn, bossing the dog about and even our other cat that is six years her senior. Heidi has a fickle spirit. She doesn’t love affection, but she will endure it if bribed (we have that in common). She also has gumption. That gumption has lead her all over the town, chasing mice, squirrels and chipmunks, climbing trees and fence lines, and most recently, directly into the path of a moving car. Luckily for my feline friend, she still has 8 lives to go.
Unfortunately, Heidi has a broken pelvis and is about as miserable as a cat can be. All things considered, this is good news. With the support of our amazing veterinarian, Heidi’s recovery is progressing well, one week in.
Part of Heidi’s healing requires pain management with the aid of kitty drugs. Every day, I spend my lunch break getting my cat stoned (try explaining that to your colleagues). The medication has a side effect and, until Monday morning, angry kitty was also constipated kitty. In a word: volatile.
Dr. Linda had a solution. Think kitty laxative. For two days, we waited like the cat was a chicken about to lay a golden egg. Poor Heidi had been relegated to a pet playpen in the living room. Sometimes, the Carpenter crawled into the pen and sat with her (you know, the guy who didn’t want more pets).
A week of worry, the discomfort of watching Heidi in distress, and the truth that loving pets means accepting financial costs for their care (not to mention lunch hours not eating lunch) can add stress to anyone. When Heidi got relief, we all would. We just want her well.
Monday morning, we got our wish, the first sign that Heidi was on the road to recovery. The morning text message was a celebration between two people who know life and marriage is sort of like a litter box. It gets messy. You have to sift through it, clear out the clumps and keep it fresh. See what I did there?