Flashback: Zonks

For as long as I can remember, I was never a "cat person," I preferred the canine species to the feline species. Of course, that all changed three years ago when the big, giant, fluffy mammoth of  a cat named Zonks showed up on my lap.

Dirty Snatch (the ex's younger sister) was asked by a friend of hers to watch her cat for the weekend. Of course, Dirty Snatch didn't have a ride to her friend's house and asked me to take her. Former Owner, provided her with a litter box, food, and litter, along with a very adorable kitty who seemed to be lacking a cat carrier. Former Owner informs that she "doesn't believe in cat carriers" and puts the cat into the car. Like I said, at this point in my life I am not a cat person, which means that as soon as the cat gets into the car, whose lap does she get cozy in? You guessed it...mine. During the entire drive back to Dirty Snatch's house, the cat stays snuggled in my lap.

Before I continue, I would like to point out that Former Owner took really good care of her cat. She was well fed (but not obese), she was well groomed, and quite friendly. Over the course of the next three months, Former Owner never asked for the cat back. Apparently, she either forgot about the cat or the temporary situation in which Dirty Snatch was originally cat sitting became a permanent situation. During the next three months, Dirty Snatch stopped caring for the cat. Instead of feeding her cat food, she started feeding her frozen meatballs (which quickly became delicious snacks for her two dogs). She quickly lost weight, appearing emaciated and scared.

After three months with no contact from Former Owner, Dirty Snatch once again called me for help, this time wanting a ride to the pet shelter to drop the poor cat off. Honestly, I'm not even sure if Dirty Snatch even tried to contact Former Owner about the cat situation. Poor emaciated cat desperately needed a bath and a good meal, so I agreed to take her for the sheer reason that I was tired of watching them slowly starve the cat to death.

Once again, the cat climbs in my lap to snuggle during the ride to the animal shelter. It's almost like we were bonding over this driving time. She kept looking at me with these adorable, sad eyes during the entire drive. With my luck with this nasty family, we arrive at the animal shelter only to arrive an hour too late. It was closed.

Dirty Snatch's solution to this problem was to simply open the car door and let her out to roam the world. Personally, I wanted to open her door, toss her out into the cold, and drive off without her. Instead of abandoning the undernourished cat, I took her back to my apartment.

Her first order of business was to hide for the remainder of the day, only to come out of hiding after I filled a bowl up with lots food and bought her a litter box with fresh litter (Dirty Snatch, in her infinite wisdom threw out the cat's litter box). Later that night, when I was fast asleep, I woke up to my new favorite animal laying on my chest, purring like there was no tomorrow. Of course, when she realized that I had woken up she flew off the bed and darted underneath the bed for the remainder of the night and a good part of the rest of the day.

Zonks, as she is now known, has lived with me ever since. She drools when you pet her and purrs all of the time. She's allowed to eat whatever she wants, seeing that for that rough three month period she was barely eating. Her favorite food is waffles, which she occasionally steals off my plate.

Zonks and the MIA Bracelet

During the move last month, I lost my favorite leather bracelet and ever since then, my wrist has not quite been the same. Periodically, it has a sense of emptiness, as if I'm actually missing a part of my arm. It's actually been quite freaky to look down and not see the thin straps of the leather that have been braided together with perfection.

After watching another sick episode of Hoarders about a woman named Vula, who had 23 cats living in her house. The cats pooped everywhere (including the stove) and I think she pooped in the tub, but I'm not completely sure if it was a tub full of poop or dirt. In addition to the 23 cats living in her house, the cleaning crew removed 13 dead cats from the house. 

Thirteen dead cats! That's fucking gross!

After the episode was over, I realized that Zonks was missing in action. Gerald has been extra snuggly since we took him to the vet last week and Zonks has been getting a little jealous, resulting in her hiding under the bed for most of the day. After being traumatized by the dead cats, I went searching for my cat, who was curled up under the bed sleeping on top of an under the bed rubbermaid container. 

I know what you're thinking, how does my cat find it comfortable to sleep on top of a rubbermaid container underneath the bed? It's quite simple. Prior to moving to Mullica Hill, Zonks and Gerald created there own personal hiding space, by tearing the sheet of black cloth from the box spring. Originally, they would climb into the space between the wood of the box spring and the cloth, which was extremely entertaining when the three cats tried to hide from each other. Zonks would hide in her box spring fortress, Gerald would hide under the bed right underneath Zonks, while Sasha hid in a piece of furniture next to the bed. All three cats were safely hid from each other within a 3 foot radius of each other.

I still can't get over the thirteen dead cats. Its making me ramble now about box springs and rubbermaid containers.

Anyway, when I went looking for Zonks I noticed a small, strap of leather underneath the bed. I picked it up and realized that Zonks had found my bracelet. Zonks celebrated by first licking my finger, which was weird, then eating a handful of cat treats. 

Gerald and His Pointy Claws

I've made the decision to have Gerald's front claws removed at the end of the month. I'm feeling extremely guilty that I've decided to do this, especially since the procedure is usually done on kittens, not four year old cats. The vet will be keeping him over night for three days since he's four years old and a very large cat.

The decision was made last week when a puncture wound caused by Gerald became infected, resulting in a trip to the doctor. Earlier in the week, Gerald climbed into my lap and took a nap. While he was dreaming peacefully  of eating a cheesesteak, fresh tuna, and mozzarella cheese sticks, he was startled by Zonks and Sasha chasing after each other. When he jumped off my lap to hide under the futon, he used my limbs as leverage and his pointy claws caught my arms and legs. He left a small puncture wound on my inner thigh, which I didn't think was that bad since there wasn't much blood.

Over the course of the next few days, the wound became infected. The entire area around the wound became red and inflamed, and of course, the wound started to ooze nasty shades of green stuff. Due to where the wound was, I didn't realize how bad it was until Thursday morning, before I left for school. When I got home, I showed it to Rachel who immediately told me to make a doctor's appointment - ASAP.

After making the doctors appointment for later that day, I called Gerald's vet and explained the situation. The receptionist actually asked me why it took me so long to make the decision since he's labeled as "use extreme caution" in their computer system, after his visit to the vet a few months ago.

Battle Wounds

If you remember correctly, Gerald left a nice scar on my face after launching himself onto my face during a game of tag with Sasha. After having a very sore face for about a week, the wound finally healed up, but left a noticeable scar on my face. Earlier last week, Gerald was snuggling on my lap while I played Dragon Age: Origins. He was being extra cute and snuggly, burrowing his face into my elbow at one point. 

In the middle of his nap, Sasha and Zonks started to chase after each other, in a non-friendly way. Of course, this startled Gerald, who leaped off my lap with all of his claws out. In order to leap off of me, he used both of my legs and arms as leverage to boost himself off the futon and into the bedroom in the most quickest manner. Unintentionally, he left a few wounds on my limbs, but nothing I thought was too serious. Plus, I was in the middle of fighting a High Dragon and nothing was going to take me away from the taste of victory.

It wasn't until a few days later, that I noticed a puncture wound on my left thigh that wasn't looking too good. The wound was on the inside of my leg, and when I first noticed it, I assumed it was the lighting in the room that was giving it the weird color. I was of course very wrong.

In fact, the wound had become infected. It was a small puncture wound, but the skin around it had turned red and my wound was oozing (not to sound gross). Of course, I noticed my new oozing wound on Thursday morning after my shower, so there was nothing I could do about it until after school. When I got home, I showed Rachel my battle wound, and she immediately told me to call the doctor.

I made an appointment for later that night and a second appointment with Gerald's vet for the end of the month to have his front claws removed. He doesn't mean harm, most of my injuries have resulted in him being unaware of his claws even being out. When he returns home from his surgery, Rachel and I are going to spoil him with a home cooked, human food meal and treat him to his very own, fuzzy blanket.

The doctor gave me two prescriptions, Cipro, an antibiotic to deal with the infection and a heavy duty Neosporin cream. I dropped of the prescriptions on Friday after work, but when I returned for them I was told that I don't have any insurance as of September 1st. Great.

Apparently, my employers never reinstated my insurance after hiring me back and nobody informed me. In fact, when I asked if I needed to fill out any paperwork for anything, they all claimed that I didn't have to worry about anything. Well, apparently somebody missed a memo. I can't wait to find out what else I'm going to have to take care of.

The Move

Rachel and I officially moved into the new apartment last weekend (pictures to follow). Finally. I was beginning to worry and wonder whether the move was actually going to take place or not. When we originally talked to Mark about the apartment in May, his original timeline had us moving in during the middle of July. The middle of July turned into the last week of July…which then turned into the first week of August…which turned into the weekend of August 6th. The only part of the timeline that didn’t change, was the fact that we needed to be out of the apartment by August 9th because Mark needed 2S to be painted and ready by August 15th for the new tenants.

As August 6th approached, it was looking doubtful that we would be moving. The biggest obstacle was the stove. Mark had replaced the stove in 2N, removing the old stove but left the new stove in the garage. The new stove was a compact stove which would fit on the opposite wall of the old stove. Mark needed the electrician to come in to not only replace the fuses with a circuit breaker, but more importantly, install an outlet for the stove. By Friday, the stove was in the apartment, but there was no where to plug it in. Since Mark needed us out of 2S, we came to an agreement that we would move into 2N with the stove unhooked, with the condition that either he would move the compact stove to where the old stove was or the electrician would be back by Monday to install an outlet for the stove.

After Mark left Friday, Rachel and I closed off the hallway that joins the two apartments and opened the doors to both apartments. While Rachel and I cleaned 2N, Gerald and Sasha wondered freely from the two apartments, while Zonks hid under the bed. The first thing Rachel did was man-handle the fridge, which Rich and Kim (the previous tenants) left absolutely disgusting. The apartment didn’t have electric since they moved out, so the puddle of rancid meat juices was quite gross. Rachel may be poor at day to day upkeep, but when there are huge projects such as cleaning rancid meat juices out of a fridge or scrubbing a bathroom, she jumps right in. She gets double points for that.

Diddy came over later that night and the three of us decided to get ahead of schedule and start moving stuff over. The three of us moved a majority of the stuff from the bedrooms, consolidating two bedrooms worth of stuff into one. Sasha made herself cozy in 2N, while Gerald walked between our feet, roaming from 2N to 2S with curiosity. Zonks made the occasional appearance, which usually consisted of her poking her head in the doorway for a few seconds, then running back to 2S to hide.

Scratches in the floor

Rachel and I spent the night in 2S that night, so we had to cat wrangle Sasha and Gerald from 2N before heading to bed. Rachel had a prior obligation at Rowan to attend to for enrolling in grad school and wouldn’t be home till around noon. While she was at Rowan, Mark and the electrician were in 2N. I pointed out a few things in 2N that Rachel and I had noticed, (a few nasty scratches in the hardwood floor in the living room and two windows that had been painted shut). Mark said he would make note of the floors in our new lease and would have the painters open the windows. Since Mark kept getting in the electricians way, he was leaving for the morning, but would be back to clean up the kitchen and help us install a board in the window for the air conditioner.

By the time Rachel got home, the electrician had left for the day but told Mark that he would be back during the week to finish the job (the electrician still hasn‘t returned). All of the electric was working, he only had to finish changing everything over to a circuit breaker. For the time being, all of the electric would run on fuses, which we were already accustomed to using from living in 2S.

Mark returned in the afternoon, and we discussed the windows a second time. The two of us went through the apartment to check all of the windows, when I noticed three wasps in the bedroom window. At first Mark thought they were outside of the window, until I pointed out that you could see the front of them, so they were obviously between the window and the screen. Upon further inspection, Mark noticed a wasp hive in the corner of the window. He bangs on the corner of the window, causing about seven or eight wasps to come flying out of the hive. After telling me that he was allergic to wasps, he then devises a plan where we would open the window to open the screen in hopes that the wasps would fly out of the window. I’ve already decided that there was no way I was going to stick my hands in the window, so I call Diddy to assist. When a wasp flies into the apartment, Mark nearly cringes when she picks up a sneaker to kill the wasp resting on the window. After Mark leaves for he final time, Diddy and I head to Shop Left to buy some Raid to take care of the wasps. After she sprayed the hive, another eight wasps flew out from the hive, dropping to the bottom of the window in agonizing pain.

Bees - 0, Humans - 1

By Sunday night, Rachel and I were completely moved out of 2S and nearly finished with unpacking 2N. There would be no cable or internet until this past Friday, when Comcast came to install the cable and modem. Rachel made the appointment for Friday and they were supposed to come between 11 and 1, calling before they showed up to our apartment. Rachel and I were very surprised (and quite pissed) that they showed up at 9 am, two hours before they were supposed to be here. We had literally just woken up and were still laying in bed when we here someone at the door. At least we have cable and internet now.

After spending the first night in 2N, and using the bed rather than the futon, I had to wake up extra early for the plumber and painter on Monday. It was the return of Creepy Carl on Monday morning, who needed to fix the slow drain on the kitchen sink and the way the toilet flushed. Creepy Carl did a horrible job on the kitchen sink we realized later that night, when Rachel went to wash a couple of dishes. It took about 15 minutes for the sink to completely drain (compared to a five minute drain time before he “fixed” the sink). Not only did the drain take extra long, the faucet was now leaking.

Creepy Carl returned on Tuesday morning, with an attitude. We spent the first five minutes arguing about the way the sink drained.

Creepy Carl: There is nothing wrong with this sink.
Me: It drains slower than it did yesterday. What do you mean there is nothing wrong with the sink?
Creepy Carl: No two sinks are alike.
Me: Really? Your telling me that in all of the places that I’ve lived, I’ve never had a sink drain like this. They have always drained “normally.”
Creepy Carl: There is nothing wrong with this sink. It’s draining normally.
Me: Are you calling me a liar? Do you think I have nothing better to do with my time than have the plumber come out for imaginary problems?
Creepy Carl: I’ll look at the sink again, but there’s nothing wrong with it. What’s wrong with the faucet?
Me: It wasn’t leaking until you came out and messed with the sink.
Creepy Carl: It was leaking yesterday when I was here.
Me: So you didn’t fix it then?

Needless to say, Creepy Carl kept his mouth shut for the rest of the morning and fixed the sink and faucet. I keep meaning to call George’s Plumbing to complain about the way Creepy Carl behaved, but I want to talk to Mark first to make sure that he wasn’t charged for two days of work, rather than one. I may not agree with the way Mark runs his apartment building, but it would be unethical if George’s Plumbing charged him extra for Creepy Carl’s mistakes.

Of course, between worrying about when we were moving to the actual move, I would up getting myself sick. I’m not battling a nasty head cold, that seems to not want to go away. I’ve spent the last few days lounging around the apartment doing absolutely nothing except getting frustrated with Rachel’s unpacking techniques.

Gerald's Razorblades

I've had Gerald since the summer of 2008, when he showed up at my doorstep each night, with his cat companion Jack. Every night he would show up at my doorstep, sleep on my chair, and catch bugs and mice on my porch. After a few weeks of taking care of Gerald, Diddy finally told me that Gerald was actually Heathcliff, the infamous cat who traveled to Georgia. When Krystyn moved out of our development, Heathcliff escaped the apartment and wound up showing up at my doorstep. Since she wasn't allowed to have cats in her new apartment, I gladly took Heathcliff in, renaming him Garfield (since I was convinced that was his name to begin with. G, as he quickly became known as, soon became Gerald, when I realized that he looked like a butler in his new black collar with bow.

Gerald has big pointy fangs and razor sharp claws, which he enjoys using on humans, his tail, and his cat roommates Sasha and Zonks. He often finds himself in some type of trouble, such knocking over Toad's cage (my pet mouse...RIP), breaking the glass cage on the ground in the middle of the night. Of course he really means no harm, he's just a stupid boy cat (as Rachel likes to call him).

His new favorite game is playing "tag" with Sasha, which means that he chases after her across the house until Sasha hides and Gerald wins. A few weeks ago, he decided to play the game at 3AM, (when Rachel and I were sound asleep) and wound up chasing Sasha under the bed. Instead of going under the bed with Sasha, he dove on top of the bed (with claws out) and landed on the back of my head. Of course I woke up in a panic, waking Rachel up in the process.

The last incident was nothing compared to last night, which resulted in my face becoming a bloody mess. Moments after Rachel and I laid down to get some sleep, Gerald and Sasha decided to play "tag." Gerald chased Sasha under the bed and then leaped onto the bed, landing on my face...with his claws out. One of his claws (not sure which one since he has four sharp feet) slid across my forehead, leaving a one inch laceration on my forehead.

I immediately threw my hands to my face and had the sick feeling of my fingers being wet, with obviously my own blood. Rachel escorted me to the bathroom, with all of the lights off so that I wouldn't freak out from the sight of my own blood. The wound actually starts at my hairline, but doesn't get bad until above my eyebrow.