Tuesday, January 13, 2009

No Meow Meows for Me

My husband will not let me get a cat.

The agreement was, we get a house, we get a cat, end of story. I have a name picked out, and a hole in my heart for a little meow-meow to fill, but alas. We have lived in our home since October, and to date, there are no kitties roaming our halls.
His reason for bringing the hammer down on the adoption of a cat? The house isn't clean enough.

I mean... before I ever married this man, he was well aware that I was no neat freak. And I was well aware of his hoarding habits and ability to shed massive amounts of body hair over short periods of time. He accepted my severe hatred of mornings and awful breath and I accepted the head cheese smell that emanated from his pillow.
I've cleaned what I reasonably could without sacrificing well-deserved free time but we're still working on sifting through a growing collection of boxes -- growing, unfortunately, due to our ongoing work at Hubs' grandma's house.

I'm not sure where the fighting cock wall ornaments are going to go. I couldn't tell you where I'm going to find space for the largest photo album collection I've ever seen. I'm not allowed to tackle the collection of transformers that are still in their original packaging. I have no idea what to do with the jumbled mess of electronic gizmos and cords.

This is a task for someone with a lot more time on their hands. I can go a box at a time, but for every box I empty, it seems three more magically appear. And Hubs doesn't seem eager to empty a single one. Which shows me he really doesn't want a little meow meow to love.

How could you, Hubs? How could you promise me my furry little love and then so callously snatch it away? Do you not really want a kitty? Are you worried about taking on the responsibility? Are you wary of loving a creature who will only die on you, eventually?


  1. I guess the bottom line is that if we don't have a carrot to dangle in front of us the house will never be clean, painted, baseboarded, and furnished. We're not the type of people that do things just for the sake of being neat and tidy, and I don't think that will ever happen.

    I think you've had a cat in the past, but let me tell you it's not easy to manage a new pet if you have a ton of half closed boxes and stuff. They love to chew on things, and they also at times will take potty liberties. How would you feel if one of the previously mentioned albums of irreplaceable family photos became a chew or scratch toy for a new cat? Or if the vintage barbie got destroyed? How about if one of those boxes fell and squished the cat? Where will the cat be stored when it comes time to paint the walls?

    I just firmly feel that if we can't take on the responsibility of managing a house full of stuff how can we possibly manage a new cat. It's just one more reason to shirk responsibilities. "I was playing with the cat." "He's so cute."

    We're making slow progress, but progress nonetheless so we will eventually get a cat.

  2. Oh yeah and if we can barely clean the house for ourselves how can there be an expectation for a clean catbox?

    Riddle me that batman!