Meet Pebbles, Train, Lemon Pie or Whatever…
I must be going mad. It is surely possible with these three little male critters running loose in my home. They barely reach the average adult’s waist height and still, they manage to snap almost all my nerves. So, I feel somewhat justified for possibly losing it. I took all three to the dentist, today, where they thrashed, and screamed, and bit on the dentist’s fingers. They absolutely refused to get an x-ray. What was I thinking anyhow? I took a cab to the office (mistake #1) and regretted it the second I entered.
They were already terrified and climbing on my legs and grabbing at my clothes. They spilled over someone’s cup of water, thereby creating a river across the tiles. I tried desperately to fill out the forms, but I couldn’t get them done. Finally they called me in and I was holding, or being held by, three bellowing children. I was silently cursing myself for thinking that this was an achievable feat. Practically three toddlers in a dentist’s office. They looked at me like I was insane.
Either way, I somehow made it home alive. Well, let’s be more realistic, they made it home alive. Child Number 1 got an x-ray of 2 teeth in total and Child Number 2 was totally a failed attempt. They took a quick peak into the chomping alligator jaws and congratulated me on brushing their teeth. A big waste of money and time. My neurons were short-circuiting and the visit concluded with no success.
Then I came home to our new kitten, Pebbles. We got her last night, a little tiger-looking stray. Several years ago, I swore we would never get a dog after fostering a puppy. It was the most difficult task I ever took upon myself. This little crying and howling puppy who made the entire house his toilet. He climbed into my bed every night and curled up, always in the way. I wanted to cry every day that we had him. It was a nightmare. I was tired and irritable and swore it would be the last.
However, that was all before I got the phone call of a poor little kitty and agreed to take her in. My heart was racing all night because I was afraid it would be a replay of the last time plus, the additional three boys of my own. What if she scratches and bites or pees everywhere? What if she wont go out of my bed? What if I can’t deal with the whole clan? And most of all, I had NOTHING for her, not even a name.
She slept in a basket with a fuzzy blanket and had a little aluminum pan litter box. I gave her some food from my fridge and she was quiet throughout the night outside on my porch. This time I was not co-sleeping, I had previously learned my lesson the hard way. After some intense worrying, I was finally able to pass out until the morning when I let her inside.
The kids were ecstatic and couldn’t figure out what to name her. They kept calling her Peppers because my parents’ cat looks the same and that’s his name. So I told them to come up with a name and meanwhile, we will call it Pebbles because Child Number 3 says Peppers in gibberish and it sorta sounds like Pebbles. There was no success in the name calling. Their ideas for names were Train, Lemon Pie, Meppers, Bubbles, Cat, and pretty much anything in their line of vision.
She is cute and peaceful and uses a litter box on her own. As of now, she is pretty harmless aside for the occasional clawing and biting when she freaks out from all the craziness. The little toes running around her and the excessive laughing and squealing can drive even a little creature mad.
As of now she remains nameless.