|Forced to drink from toilet to survive|
The observant Buzzy watchers among you may have noticed that, for the first time, the picture of Buzzy did not change this past Friday.
The reason for this is that Seth and I were engaged in our usual tornado of pre-departure insanity before we left for a brief two day visit to see our boys.
Leaving the house, for us, is extremely complicated.
I've always envied friends who nonchalantly toss an item or two into a bag, announcing that "if we forget something, we can always buy it when we get there!" I don't understand this concept at all even though there's a CVS right down the street from where we stay in Washington, DC. But why would I buy it when I have it here? I will pack it, by God. I WILL PACK IT!
So, we stuff just about everything we own into our rolling Costco suitcases. Plenty of socks and underwear is a must, isn't it? An extra top or two in case I dribble--which is a given. Jeans, dressier pants, pajamas,vitamins, giant vats of Advil and Alleve, bandaids, my own hair blower because the one in the hotel has no oomph, my own alarm clock because I trust it, jackets of varying weights in case the weather shifts, a variety of shoes. We don't want our feet to touch the carpet in the hotel so slippers must be crammed in as well as several novels, a notebook, pens, extra eyeglasses and the pillow from my bed at home.
I bring lotions and deodorant, balms and emollients, unguents and salves. I bring the sunscreen I've taken to wearing all year as well as a tweezer in case of splinters and even a tiny scissor for Seth's eyebrows which have been known to grow several feet in one night.
In the years before the internet, I remember once packing a dictionary and thesaurus because you never know when you'll need reference material in order to make someone feel stupid and inadequate.
Once we've packed, we put lots of food and water out for the cats in case we die in an accident and no one gets in for a few days during the confusion. We also provide extra litter boxes for their pooping comfort and prop doors open so they can't get closed in anywhere.
At this point, we are rapidly becoming exhausted because we've been at this since before dawn. A trip to Starbucks is made for reinforcements since we have already checked and rechecked that every appliance in the house, including the televisions, are unplugged.
All this action is punctuated by several small episodes of battle. Someone pisses someone off and yelling will ensue followed by mandatory periods of huffing, puffing and glaring...then silence until the next conflagration. Somewhere during all of this mayhem, I forgot to change the Buzzy photo.
The additional irony of all this is that, somehow, Buzzy managed to get locked into my mother's old room whose door we keep shut because in it exists evidence that we are budding hoarders. He spent two days with no food, no litter box and only toilet bowl water to ease his pussycat thirst. By the time we arrived home, Buzz Buzz was hoarse from crying.
We are usually very careful about determining that all cats are accounted for and neither Seth nor I can figure out how this happened. Once liberated, Buzzy required affection and soothing before he ran off to crunch furiously at his bowl. This further elevated his status in my mind. Would Tom or Charlie, after having been trapped in a room for two days, require hugs from their mother before tearing open the refrigerator door and inhaling everything on the shelves? I think not.
So, Buzzy had a tough weekend. The other cats must also have been agitated due to his apparent incarceration ("What could he have done? Are we next?") and Seth and I will have to rethink our pre-departure routines. Maybe we'll bring the cats with us next time.