When what to my wondering eyes should appear...
There is a steep hill next to our home. Super steep.
Like, if I were to lose control of the stroller while walking down it, Leah and Eden would be baby pancakes at the bottom of the hill, with little bits of metal and canvas dispersed throughout.
Which is why I don't go down that hill by myself.
Jeremy loves that hill, though. He thinks it's magical.
Every time we go on a walk, he looks at me with pleading eyes, and I say, "NO!" because I'm that kind of sensitive, kind and indulgent wife.
Well, little over a week ago, Jeremy and I got to go out on a walk alone thanks to my spectacularly magical mother-in-law (who is addicted to all the Hallmark movies on Netflix...she even calls up and asks if she can watch the kids so we can go out... Ha ha!), and Jeremy dragged me up the street so we could walk down the Super Steep Hilly Hill (otherwise referred to as Sshh from this point forward....makes it sound like a secret).
We made it to the top of the peak, and started down the Sshh...shhhhh...
Sorry, couldn't help myself.
Anyway, as we started down the hill, a small grey and white creature jumped out of the bushes next to the sidewalk.
My heart melted.
It was a kitty.
It meowed in greeting, and I bent down to pet it.
It looked relatively clean, so I thought I was safe, but as I stroked its back, my hand trailing up the tail, I realized I made a mistake as my brain registered crinkly crunchy bits at the end of the cat's tail.
Ew.
I held my hand away from my body, really disappointed that there wasn't a handy flash-flood to wash my hand in, and stood back up.
The cat had already discarded me and was bee-lining it for Jeremy.
I don't know how cats know when someone isn't a cat person.
But they do, and they really, really like them.
Maybe it's because most non-cat lovers hold really still.
And I know they do it to discourage the cat, but because they are non-cat lovers they don't get that cats will always come to the one who seems the most placid, and so all the non-movement only encourages the cat to advance and take over.
Kind of like how Pepper will jump into my lap when I am playing two-hander computer game and she insists on kneading my stomach and waving her tale in my face, but I digress...
Anyway, Jeremy was holding really still trying to give the cat the picture (which obviously didn't work), and the cat was rubbing itself all over Jeremy's leg.
*shudder*
Tail crinkly bits....
Jeremy then remembered how to get rid of a cat and began stomping at the cat and making "GRAWW!" noises.
The cat thought Jeremy was playing a game, and backed off, and then came back with a vengeance.
Jeremy panicked, and stomped again, and yelled, "Dara! RUN!"
I started down the Sshh, jogging moderately, and stopped, waiting for Jeremy to catch up.
I could hear his rapid foot falls...
...and something else.
It went something like this:
*STOMP STOMP STOMP* WRRAAAWWRRRR! *STOMP STOMP STOMP* WRRAAAWWRRR! *STOMP STOMP STOMP* WRRAAAWWRRRR! *STOMP STOMP STOMP* WRRAAAWWRRRR!
The cat was chasing us down the Sshh, and was bellowing at us.
Yes.
In so far as a cat can bellow, it was bellowing.
My adrenaline shot through the roof, because now I was sure the cat had rabies, and I turned and fled down the Sshh as fast as I could, my rabies-tainted hand as far from my body as I could manage, laughing maniacally the whole way down.
Now, the hill is about a quarter mile down, and that cat kept up with us as we made our way down the slope.
I'm sure the neighbors just loved all the noise we were making as Jeremy was shouting and yeeking at the cat, and I was laughing hysterically, and the cat was roaring.
Yeah.
It was super fun!
I suppose my reputation can't get much worse than it got after I put the Poo signs out, which mysteriously disappeared...
We made it down to the bottom of the hill and exchanged looks and nervous giggles.
The cat was gone.....
.....until it jumped out of the underbrush, meowing and carrying on, and we bolted again until we got home, breathing rapidly, and reminding each other that rabies shots are administered through large needles poked into the stomach.
"That's so it goes directly into the system," Jeremy remarked sagely.
Good times.
As I boiled my hand in lye, and got ready for bed, the experience became a fond memory.....
Until the next day when I realized that all that running down hill completely destroyed my back.
I couldn't walk or stand.
I was debilitated.
Stupid cat.
Stupid Sshh...
Jeremy then proceeded to tell me repeatedly over the days of pain that followed that I should go to a chiropractor.
I'd rather lick the bellowing-rabies cat's tail.
Like, if I were to lose control of the stroller while walking down it, Leah and Eden would be baby pancakes at the bottom of the hill, with little bits of metal and canvas dispersed throughout.
Which is why I don't go down that hill by myself.
Jeremy loves that hill, though. He thinks it's magical.
Every time we go on a walk, he looks at me with pleading eyes, and I say, "NO!" because I'm that kind of sensitive, kind and indulgent wife.
Well, little over a week ago, Jeremy and I got to go out on a walk alone thanks to my spectacularly magical mother-in-law (who is addicted to all the Hallmark movies on Netflix...she even calls up and asks if she can watch the kids so we can go out... Ha ha!), and Jeremy dragged me up the street so we could walk down the Super Steep Hilly Hill (otherwise referred to as Sshh from this point forward....makes it sound like a secret).
We made it to the top of the peak, and started down the Sshh...shhhhh...
Sorry, couldn't help myself.
Anyway, as we started down the hill, a small grey and white creature jumped out of the bushes next to the sidewalk.
My heart melted.
It was a kitty.
It meowed in greeting, and I bent down to pet it.
It looked relatively clean, so I thought I was safe, but as I stroked its back, my hand trailing up the tail, I realized I made a mistake as my brain registered crinkly crunchy bits at the end of the cat's tail.
Ew.
I held my hand away from my body, really disappointed that there wasn't a handy flash-flood to wash my hand in, and stood back up.
The cat had already discarded me and was bee-lining it for Jeremy.
I don't know how cats know when someone isn't a cat person.
But they do, and they really, really like them.
Maybe it's because most non-cat lovers hold really still.
And I know they do it to discourage the cat, but because they are non-cat lovers they don't get that cats will always come to the one who seems the most placid, and so all the non-movement only encourages the cat to advance and take over.
Kind of like how Pepper will jump into my lap when I am playing two-hander computer game and she insists on kneading my stomach and waving her tale in my face, but I digress...
Anyway, Jeremy was holding really still trying to give the cat the picture (which obviously didn't work), and the cat was rubbing itself all over Jeremy's leg.
*shudder*
Tail crinkly bits....
Jeremy then remembered how to get rid of a cat and began stomping at the cat and making "GRAWW!" noises.
The cat thought Jeremy was playing a game, and backed off, and then came back with a vengeance.
Jeremy panicked, and stomped again, and yelled, "Dara! RUN!"
I started down the Sshh, jogging moderately, and stopped, waiting for Jeremy to catch up.
I could hear his rapid foot falls...
...and something else.
It went something like this:
*STOMP STOMP STOMP* WRRAAAWWRRRR! *STOMP STOMP STOMP* WRRAAAWWRRR! *STOMP STOMP STOMP* WRRAAAWWRRRR! *STOMP STOMP STOMP* WRRAAAWWRRRR!
The cat was chasing us down the Sshh, and was bellowing at us.
Yes.
In so far as a cat can bellow, it was bellowing.
My adrenaline shot through the roof, because now I was sure the cat had rabies, and I turned and fled down the Sshh as fast as I could, my rabies-tainted hand as far from my body as I could manage, laughing maniacally the whole way down.
Now, the hill is about a quarter mile down, and that cat kept up with us as we made our way down the slope.
I'm sure the neighbors just loved all the noise we were making as Jeremy was shouting and yeeking at the cat, and I was laughing hysterically, and the cat was roaring.
Yeah.
It was super fun!
I suppose my reputation can't get much worse than it got after I put the Poo signs out, which mysteriously disappeared...
We made it down to the bottom of the hill and exchanged looks and nervous giggles.
The cat was gone.....
.....until it jumped out of the underbrush, meowing and carrying on, and we bolted again until we got home, breathing rapidly, and reminding each other that rabies shots are administered through large needles poked into the stomach.
"That's so it goes directly into the system," Jeremy remarked sagely.
Good times.
As I boiled my hand in lye, and got ready for bed, the experience became a fond memory.....
Until the next day when I realized that all that running down hill completely destroyed my back.
I couldn't walk or stand.
I was debilitated.
Stupid cat.
Stupid Sshh...
Jeremy then proceeded to tell me repeatedly over the days of pain that followed that I should go to a chiropractor.
I'd rather lick the bellowing-rabies cat's tail.
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