Day 60: Poor Greyson

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 60: Poor Greyson

Greyson is upset with me, and for good reason. If he could talk, he would say that he suffered a mild case of animal abuse. Not once, but twice. Here’s what happened.

Tonight I came home from work and together with Dieter I made the beds. The duvet was folded three quarters over the bed to give the bed a chance to air. In order to straighten the bottom sheet, we threw the duvet off the bed and heard a ... clonk.

Moments later, Greyson appeared from under the duvet with a face that asked ... what’d you do that for? The poor thing, by throwing the duvet on the floor we inadvertently threw Greyson to the floor who lay napping under the folder duvet. I wanted to pick him up and tell him how sorry I was, but he was having none of it.

As if once wasn’t enough, a short time later we had another accident.

I went to my room to fold the laundry. That’s when I noticed a black sock on the floor, sticking out from under my bed. I bend to pick up the sock and heard an angry ... meow!!! That's when I realized, the black sock wasn’t a black sock but Greyson’s dark, fluffy tail.

In my defense, the room was rather dark and I wasn’t wearing my glasses. If I had, I would have seen the difference between a sock and a cat’s tail, but as I said, I didn't wear glasses. 

I crouched in front of the bed and noticed two amber eyes glaring at me. In response to my “Sorry baby, I didn’t know it was your tail,” Greyson turned his back on me.

Halley who had heard Greyson’s meow, in protest of me pulling his tail came running into the bedroom. She dived under the bed to comfort Greyson and no doubt plotting revenge. I could just imagine it, Halley stating ... don’t worry brother, I’ve got your back.” And she did.

About an hour later I went to the bathroom and as usual, Halley came with me. She positioned herself on the corner of the vanity table. On the vanity table also stood a new toilet roll. While I wasn’t looking, Halley inched closer to the roll and with her front paw deftly knocked the roll in the toilet.

Well, I never. And it wasn’t cheap toilet paper either, it was Charmin paper. After I fished the roll out of the (clean) water it was only good for one thing ... the bin.

I can only guess what those two have in store for me tonight. After these two cases of minor abuse, they no doubt will make me pay.

My guess is that Halley will come and sit on me, and she’s not exactly a light cat. Greyson from his side will wait until I drift off to sleep before sticking his cold wet nose in my ear and start purring, followed by licking my nose.

Lesson learned. From now on, before throwing the duvet off the bed, I will check that no cat is napping underneath it and when I see a black sock on the floor, I will make sure that it is indeed a sock and not a tail.

I’m sure that those of you with cats can relate.

____________________

Looking for a unique gift?

http://connymanero.weebly.com/store.html

  

Day 50: Our own private 'pool'

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 50: Our own private 'pool'

Yesterday, Dieter and I became the proud owners of a swimming pool. We already have a pool in our condo building, but now we had a private pool in our home, more specifically, in the bathroom. I’ll bet you want to know more about that ...

It all started when the toilet in the bathroom started acting up. Water still filled the tank, but it took longer and longer as the water came slower and slower. Sometimes we had to wait a whole ten minutes for the tank to fill. Dieter investigated the situation and was going to repair it.

He went to Canadian Tire where he bought a filler. While I did the dishes he set off for the bathroom armed with pliers.

Suddenly I heard a scream, followed by “Maaaaaaaa!” Not knowing what happened, but fearing some kind of personal accident I sprinted to the bathroom where I found Dieter on his knees in front of a tap that gushed water all over the place. 

“A towel, a towel, quickly!” he commanded. 

He pushed the towel I gave him against the tap, but within seconds it got soaked. Fearing that the water might come into the corridor I grabbed a bath towel, thus trying to block the flow. 

Since there was nothing really I could do I made myself scarce. 

In due time Dieter came into the kitchen ... soaked from head to toe. He asked me to follow him to the bathroom. Upon arrival, he flushed the toilet and it appeared to be fixed. Unfortunately, we now had our own private pool in the bathroom or at least a pond where we could keep koi.

While I finished the dishes he returned to the bathroom to mop up, dry himself off and have a change of clothing.

While all this was happening I had an accident of my own. While doing the dishes the rim of a drinking glass broke in the water. Having thrown away the glass I noticed that there was a gash in the index finger of the yellow rubber gloves I was wearing. Moments later I felt something sticky ... blood. The glass had cut through the rubber gloves into my finger. I consider myself lucky, without those rubber gloves it would have been a lot worse.

All the finger needed was a band-aid, as for our own private pool ... it’s no more.

Day39: Did I do that?

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day39: Did I do that?

I have a little magnet calendar on my fridge. Every day it shows a cute cat or kitten, or a quote. 

Yesterday it was this ...

Today it’s this ...

And yesterday it was a quote by Chris Evans:

“Cats are an example of peace and tranquility”

Hm, no offense to Chris Evans but she obviously has never met Halley and Greyson. Oh the both of them are peaceful and tranquil when they’re asleep, but when they’re awake ... hold on to your hat.

Take this morning for instance. The both of them were racing around the place at full tilt. They sprinted from the bedroom through the living room onto the balcony, only to return from the balcony via the kitchen, into the living room and back to the bedroom.

Charlotte and Holly stayed out of their way, as did I, because – not having breaks on their paws – they are an accident waiting for a place to happen.

Charlotte

Holly

Usually, nothing happens, Halley and Greyson eventually get tired and go to sleep. Today was different.

The balcony door had been open all morning. When I went to shower, I closed the door because I don’t like to leave them unsupervised. The balcony is perfectly safe, protected by double netting, but still, you never know what could happen.

Having finished my shower and morning routine, I came into the kitchen, Greyson saw me and got such a fright that he took off like an arrow from a bow and ran straight into the screen door. It’s a good thing I hadn’t closed the glass door, or he could have been hurt.

As it was, when he saw what he did he sped to by bedroom, dived under the bed and stayed there for a good ten minutes. When I went to check on him, the poor thing sat there with eyes as big as tea saucers.

I tried to coax him to come out but ah ah, he was having none of it. Eventually, he left his hiding place, slowly, carefully, placing one dainty paw in front of another. It’s never taken him that long to get from the bedroom to the living room.

When he went to take a look at the balcony screen door, or rather where the balcony screen door used to be, it was with a lot of sniffing and head bobbing. He gave a good impression of Steve Urkel’s ... Did I do that?

Day 13: Is a home really the most dangerous place

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 13: Is a home really the most dangerous place

From the moment we step outside, we are on guard for potential accidents. Auto collisions, pedestrians getting hit by moving vehicles, potholes, loose stones, stairs, falling objects and more.

Some of these accidents, if severe enough are published in a newspaper, an online site or they are even screened on TV. But what about the accidents that happen at home? They do say that a home is the most dangerous place.

The Living Room

Quite by accident, we found a Chippendale end table. It was a little too big for the intended spot, but the color matched our existing furniture so well that I didn’t hesitate to buy it. 

What a mistake that was. I can’t tell you how many times we stomped a toe against one of its legs or banged a knee on one of the corners. In the end, beautiful as the end table was, it had to go. For its replacement, we bought a round table. It’s small enough not to pose a threat to our toes and its round edges are much kinder to passing knees.

The Bathroom

When Margaret redecorated her bathroom, she went to Home Depot and chose beautiful baby blue glossy tiles for her backsplash and floor. The salesman who helped her mentioned that while this was a great choice for a backsplash, it was far from ideal for a floor. 

Because of the glossy finish, the floor would become extremely slippery when wet. Margaret paid no attention, she loved the baby blue tiles and to hell with the consequences. 

It took exactly four days for Margaret to slip and fall on her baby blue tiles and end up with a navy blue knee. She promptly had the baby blue floor replaced with non-slip rough texture tiles.

The Kitchen

The most dangerous place in any home is the kitchen.

Fed up with a nearly blunt potato knife, Betty made her way to Canadian Tire and picked out a new knife. Come lunchtime, Betty started peeling potatoes and subsequently slicing them in half. 

Unfortunately, Betty (used to putting effort in slicing a potato) put too much oomph in her action slicing not only the potato but a section of her hand between her thumb and index finger. Eighteen stitches later Betty came home and threw the new knife in the trash. She told me that the attending doctor had quite a laugh when she told him what had happened.

A doctor had quite a laugh with me too. Yes, I had an accident in the kitchen too and the culprit was not a slippery floor or a knife, it was a can of pineapple.

A can of pineapple you might wonder. Indeed. Dieter and I had gone grocery shopping and when we came home we started unpacking the bags. Dieter crouched in front of the fridge while I placed items on top of the door. He reached for the items and placed them in the fridge.

Everything went fine until I placed a can of pineapple on the door. The can slipped off the door and landed with its rim on my socked left foot. Jeez Louise, the pain … I can’t begin to tell you how much pain that 500 ml can caused me.

When I was able to move, I hobbled to the lounge where I fell in one of the chairs. When I removed my sock I was greeted by a rather large bump on my left foot …

A few days later, the blood in the bump spread to the rest of my foot and now my foot looked like this …

No bones were broken, but walking was rather uncomfortable. In slippers mind you, because I couldn’t get into any of my shoes.

On the upside, I didn’t need a bone density test because this accident had proven that I have very strong bones.

The Bedroom

Well, we won’t go there but I’m sure quite a few accidents have happened there too. Not in my bedroom, but in general.

Day 158: Greyson's Accident

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 158: Greyson's Accident

It is generally accepted that the parents of a kitten are a male and female cat. Yet in Greyson’s case, I have serious doubts. Judging by his look and behavior, I’ve come to think that his father might be a squirrel.

Not only does Greyson have the coloring of a black squirrel, but he has a really big bushy tail, and he acts like a squirrel. He runs like one, he jumps on walls and door frames, and hides things. Now wouldn’t you say those are all the characteristics of a squirrel?

In addition, Greyson is a rather naughty kitten. This morning he pulled a stunt that we won’t forget in a hurry.

For the longest time, we had dark colored carpets. They were either red with flowers or dark green with flowers or something similar. Nothing ever happened to those carpets, no spills of any kind. Now that we have a new cream-colored lounge suite, I wanted a cream colored carpet under the coffee table and would you believe it … the carpet is not even a week old and … you guessed it, something happened.

I recently changed the coffee table decoration from a silk flower arrangement to a Val St. Lambert crystal tray. I inherited this tray from my folks, but for the longest time didn’t dare to put the tray on the table. It’s an expensive piece and should it break … well, anyone who knows crystal knows that crystal doesn’t just break, it shatters in a million pieces.

With the arrival of the new lounge and carpet though, the orange flowers clashed with the pink flowers in the carpet, and so I brought out the crystal tray, washed it and placed it on the coffee table. Charlotte, Holly, and Halley ignored the tray, but Greyson was fascinated by it. Every chance he got he jumped on the table, walked up to the tray and stared at his reflection.

And so it happened. This morning he was once again admiring himself in the tray, for some reason got spooked, one of his claws got stuck in the lace runner under the tray, and the next moment a coffee cup that was standing on the table now lay on the beige carpet … leaving a big coffee stain.

Fortunately, I’ve read enough about stain removal that I knew what to do. I blotted up the coffee and followed up with soda water. From what I can see most of the stain is gone. Someone suggested hairspray or peroxide to remove any last traces of the stain, but I have neither hairspray nor peroxide. But thank you Vicat F. and Bunny A.

As for Greyson … he knew he’d done something wrong and fled to my bedroom. It took hours before he ventured back into the living room and was rather careful about it. Not that he had anything to worry about, it was, after all, an accident and he was quickly forgiven.

Do you like the stories? 

Maybe you will like one of my books.

www.connymanero.weebly.com

Day 64: It was an accident – Decorating for Christmas

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 64: It was an accident – Decorating for Christmas

There’s been an accident at our house. Something gruesome really ... St. Joseph got decapitated.

It happened last Friday. Being December 1^st, we thought the time had come to bring out the Christmas tree and decorate the house. Don’t imagine this as easy, because it’s a huge job.

First of all, Dieter had to get the tree out of the storage cabinet which is a job in itself. The cabinet is stuffed to the gills with ... stuff. In addition to boxes with Easter decorations and boxes with Halloween decorations, there is stuff such as a fan, a heater, crutches, old curtains, lamps, blankets, cat carriers, etc. To get to the Christmas tree and decorations, all this had to come out.

Once the Christmas tree was out of its box, the branches needed unfolding. Another big job that kept us busy for at least half an hour.

Then, while Dieter decorated the living room, I put the balls in the tree. This under close inspection of our four cats: Mickey, Charlotte, Gabriel, and Holly who couldn’t wait to get their paws on the balls.

While decorating the tree, I suddenly heard a crash followed by “Oh shit.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“St. Joseph got decapitated,” Dieter said.

I rushed over and sure enough, there was St. Joseph, on the floor and his head was nowhere to be found. Oh well, I was sure it would turn up and if it didn’t I could just buy another St. Joseph.

While looking at the Christmas stable, I noticed something very strange. There was something profoundly wrong with our nativity scene. The stable had a St. Joseph (minus his head), a virgin Mary, three kings, three shepherds, an ox and a sheep, but ... there were two mangers in front of Mary and Joseph.

“Two mangers?” I turned to Dieter. “Since when did the virgin Mary have twins?

“I was at the store,” Dieter said. “I couldn’t remember whether we had a manger or not, so I bought one. Seems a shame to let the extra manger go to waste.”

I had no comeback for this. So, the extra manger stayed and apparently, in our house baby Jesus now has a little brother or sister. (No disrespect intended, I assure you.)

With the tree set up and the house decorated, Dieter decided to put lights in the annex of the living room and lights on the balcony. He was about to start with the lights for the annex when I looked at the string, mentally measured the walls of the annex and ... the string seemed too long.

“I don’t think that is the right string,” I said. “I think the string that you’re holding with the blue, green and purple lights is for the balcony and the string over there with blue, green, orange and red lights is for the annex.”

“No,” Dieter said. “This is the string for the annex and that string is for the balcony. Look, there’s a tiny bit of white paint on this light, meaning it’s from the balcony.” And off he went.

Putting up the lights went accompanied by a whole lot of sighing, moaning and occasional swearing when the hammer missed the nail and knocked a finger instead.

When the string of lights indeed proved to be too long, Dieter got creative and worked a design into the display. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. Oh well, it would have to do.

Next Dieter put on a jacket and was now going to string the lights along the balcony. Within minutes he came back inside with the announcement ... “The string is too short. You were right, the annex string is for outside and this string is for inside.” Hm, tell me something I didn’t know. But you know men ... they don’t want to hear “I told you so.”

Then again, I made a mistake of my own. I placed an angel on top of the lamp lighting the nativity scene.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dieter said. “That angel is gonna fall.”

“We’ll see,” I said. “It seems pretty sturdy to me.”

I was wrong. Last night when I went to unplug the balcony lights, I suddenly felt a profound thump on my head. After having rubbed the sore spot I looked and there she was ... the angel smiling up at me from the floor. Her face almost said “Gotcha.”

On Sunday morning, we woke up to the sound of something falling and rolling. Even before I came into the living room I knew what it was and who the culprit was ... Holly had knocked a ball off the Christmas tree and was now batting it around in a way that would have made David Beckham jealous.

Charlotte was also playing with something. Batting it, chasing it, and batting it some more. She had such fun that, at first, I let her play, but when I saw what she was playing with, I had to put a stop to it ... St. Joseph’s head. Don’t worry, doctor Dieter and superglue remedied the situation and all is well with the holy family.

www.connymanero.weebly.com

Day 43: Feet and how we treat them

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 43: Feet and how we treat them

It’s a gloomy day in Toronto. Dark, rainy, and while not exactly cold (it’s 17 degrees C – 62.6 degrees F) it’s an altogether miserable day.

On a day, just like today, my folks got a call from friends, suggesting we all go take a walk in the local park. Excellent idea, mom thought, she used to love kicking the leaves as a child. So off we went.

In the park, there were plenty of trees and as such heaps of leaves. Crispy leaves in various shades of orange and brown. We behaved like children, running around, kicking and throwing leaves at each other. When my brother saw a particularly big heap of leaves, he kicked it like David Beckham preparing for a penalty. The next moment, my brother was in agony. The big heap of leaves wasn’t a heap at all but a rock covered with leaves. The result … a broken toe.

A few months later, we were vacationing in Italy and my brother couldn’t wait to go swimming in the sparkling blue Mediterranean. He dashed through the surf and was soon doing the breaststroke, crawl, and backward crawl, slapping and kicking around. One of those kicks got him into trouble. The heel of right foot made contact with a rock and his cavorting in the water came to an abrupt halt. Mom noticed that something was wrong and ran into the water to get him. In her haste, she too kicked a rock. 

They come out of the ocean, limping, the both of them. My brother with a severely bleeding heel, my mother with a severely swollen big toe.

Safe to say, my family didn’t treat their feet very well. And I’m no different.

For the longest time, my family used to tell me to wear shoes or at least slippers around the house, but did I listen … no, I’m either walking barefoot or in my socks. In fact, when I come home, kicking my shoes off is the first thing I do.

I did this, about a year and a half ago. I came home from grocery shopping and took my sneakers off. Then I went into the kitchen to pack away the groceries. Just to be clear, I unpacked and my son gave everything a place.

At one point, he was crouched in front of the fridge and I was handing him fruit, veggies, cooldrink, etc. Everything went fine until I placed a tin of pineapple on the open fridge door. To this day I don’t know exactly what happened but the tin slipped off the door and landed on my foot.

A searing pain exploded from my foot. A pain so intense that if you’d asked me for my name or phone number, I wouldn’t have known. Now if I’d kept my sneakers on this would have been a minor incident, as it was the tin landed on my socked foot and there was considerable damage. See for yourself.

Surprisingly nothing was broken. It took three weeks for the bump to heal, but after that everything was fine. Which goes to show, all this talk about getting older and developing brittle bones … my bones appear to be as strong as steel.

www.connymanero.weebly.com