All I Want For Christmas Is You

Dang it.

Mr Handsome Cat decided after he came out from under anaesthesia that he had tolerated just about all the shit he could for one day and bit *another* tech (I do not know if I mentioned that before, and I am too lazy to bring up my own blog and check.  Now how sad it that?  But he did; he bit a tech when I dropped him off, ‘cos I did not know to leave the cage.), and tried to bite Chrissy when she went to pick him up.  So Chrissy decided that Mr Handsome Cat may not be reachable, and I have to say that if I do not agree, at least I understand.  It takes a lot of time to undo damage.  So Chrissy phoned me and said that she was going to take Mr Handsome Cat back to Eviljob and let him out.

Well, at least I didn’t have to do it.

Chrissy said that he will be happier out there, and she is probably right; at least he will not be siring any more kitties.  One down, about twenty to go.  

And my right finger is swollen from having been bitten.  :-)  Agnostic empiricist that I am, I have put on my St Panteleimon ring; I will let you know if it needs amputating.  ;-)

I set my trap again on what would have been my lunch break if we had not been having a party, then I went back upstairs and watched from the fifth floor as Momcat sat at the closed end and gazed longingly at the tuna.  “Damn it, Momcat,” I fussed, “try to find a way in!”

And then an orange cat walked right in and was trapped.  

Damn it.

Ok, fine.  Fine.  A little later I went out, and saw that it was Nice Cat.  A very, very pissed off Nice Cat.  Who had snarfed up all of the tuna and was sitting in meatloaf-position, trying to figure a way out.  I swear, he should have been wearing glasses and scribbling diagrams on a piece of paper as hard as he was concentrating.  When he saw me, he asked me to please get him out of this; I put a plastic bag and towel over the top in case it rained, and went back in to think of a way to politely sneak out early.

So I ended up just leaving about thirty minutes later, which was long enough for Nice Cat to take a stinky dump in the cage.  

Oh, *hell*.  

So I cleaned up as best I could, put plastic over my seat (I planned ahead this time!) and took Nice Cat over to Chrissy’s vet to have his balls cut off, castrating female that I am.  

On the drive over, it occurred to me that Nice Cat might die in surgery; I do not know *why* that had not occurred to me with Mr Handsome Cat, but…it did.  And then I got really sad, because I realised that Momcat could die, too.  I left Nice Cat in the trap (I learnt my lesson with Mr Handsome Cat) and handed him over.  I hope that he will be ok.  Maybe this will toughen me up for my own cats’ surgeries; I mean, *something* has to.

Butsoanyway.

The party was fine, and the person who received my present loved it, like I thought he would.  :-)  This one was for a smaller group of us, and so we spent the time playing with our presents and making dirty jokes.  One lady in our group received a Darth Vader mask and light sabre (a kind of long-running joke with her), and the guys promptly confiscated and started playing with them.  Sigh.  Boys.  

And I may go to our second party en masse.  I was asked if I was going, I said no (though I did not say why), and then started being given grief over it.  So I may have a mercy-date…or three.  :-) Whee.

During our party, we went around the room and talked about what we wanted for Christmas, and everyone would make jokes and comments about it.  I hate questions like that.  I do not want *anything* for Christmas, or Chanukah, or Kwanzaa, or whatever.  So I spent most of my time wandering clock-wise around the room, trying to evade being asked whilst I thought of something good.  Finally, I ran out of thinking time when Ms Vader started in with her bony finger-waggling and “Oh, Ancodia didn’t go!  Ancodia didn’t go!”  

Maybe I underestimated her powers of observation when I allowed myself to walk past her twice.  :-)  Note to Self:  In the future, slink *behind* her the second time around.  I still had not thought of anything, so I just said what was on my mind—I want the Momcat.  

One guy, whom I have known for years, tapped the two guys next to him, and said, “Okay—let’s go get the Momcat!”  :-)  I laughed and said that was not necessary, and the guys all swore that they would love to go chase a cat around a parking lot.  Sigh.  Boys.  Then one of the girls who has seen me trying to snag a feline piped up with a “Why *are* you stealing all of those cats?  How many do you have now?”  The way she said it made me laugh so hard that I could not answer, then another girl I have worked with a lot before jumped in and said, “Seventeen!”.  I had calmed down by then, and tried to explain that I do *not* have seventeen cats, I have three.  But the first girl interrupted me to ask what I do with all of the cats I have caught, and I decided to make a joke—I asked her if she thought that was *actual* turkey we had just eaten.  

Ok, so I am morbid.  :-)  

So then I had to explain that I am placing them and stuff.  But it was funny.  And I sneaked out without incident, so that was good, too.  

And all I want for Christmas is Mehitabel.  Yes, I decided today to name her Mehitabel.  

I hope Nice Cat and Mr Handsome Cat are okay.  And, well…everyone else in the world.  

In Other News, I helped ‘Pants finish an end-of-term paper that I guess she should have been able to do herself, but…I guess she is afraid.  I can relate.  At least she is done now.  A day late, but done.  I am a little burnt over authoring so much of it myself, but…who cares.  It was good experience.  And she *did* originate approximately three-quarters of it herself; that is probably a record.  I know—I am being mean.  But I also have to get something for her for Christmuskah (she is a half-and-half, also).  I do not have any idea what, but…I will think of something.  And I had better hurry; she is coming into town in a few days.  Ack.  

Ohhh…and I looked at the Dixie Square store!  I am going to have the same problem there that I have with the Engrish site—I don’t know where to start!  Though I am leaning towards the clock and the information booth t-shirt.  Decisions, decisions…