La luna nueva continues to wreak havoc in our household. Had one last go around over her yesterday, and it should serve as a reminder to me: I am not the only person in the world, I am not the most important person in the world, and I need to stop making everyone around me miserable just because I feel sorry for myself.
I was so tired and headachy on Thursday, I just couldn't stand the kitten. It kept doing kitten things--running up the leg of my longjohns, trying to get in my dinner plate, chewing on my papers, making Jack angry, etc., and my temper kept getting shorter and shorter. Every time Jack hissed, I hissed, too. And Catherine was frantically trying to keep it away from me, w/no luck. We were both practically in tears by the time I shut myself in the bedroom.
But I got some sleep, and although my headache persists, I felt a lot better when I got up on Friday. Jack and Luna seemed to be getting along--more or less--and I spent a lot of time just playing and petting Jack so he would remember that he's my favorite boy. Luna slept a lot, which enhances her cuteness. I like her a lot better when she's not moving.
Checked my e-mail just before I went to practice, and there was a note from C. saying that she'd called the kitten place and told them we need to return Luna because it wasn't working out, Jack was too stressed by her (which is shorthand for "Susan is too stressed by her.")
But that's not what I wanted. I didn't mean for Catherine to give Luna back. I was just tired, I just had a headache, I was just too damn self-involved to see how my bad mood was having an impact on everyone around me. And I called Catherine at work to tell her that she couldn't take the kitten away now, it would be too much like losing yet another pet.
I had just been watching Luna sleep and thinking how much she looked like the black kitten I had when I was a baby who died when she was sleeping (my mom told me I handled it too much and that's why it probably died), and hoping I wasn't jinxed and that this one wasn't going to die on me.
Anyway, I called C. and told her no, you can't give away the kitten, I would feel really, really bad, and then I had to go and start crying of all stupid things. C. kept saying, "I was just trying to make it better for you, and now I've made it worse," so I cried some more. How can a kitten fuck up my life so badly? Ah...more importantly, how can *I* fuck up my life so badly?
So, I spent the evening beating the hell out of a hockey puck because I made Catherine feel like she had to get rid of her kitten to make me happy, and Catherine spent the evening at home feeling bad that she hadn't asked me first before trying to give the kitten back.
The woman who gave the kitten to us probably thinks we're crazy: We want it, no we don't, yes we do, no we don't, yes we do!
So, anyway, here we still have a kitten. This morning was the first vet appt. for the Lunatic, and she didn't really enjoy it. They trimmed her claws for some reason (we didn't ask them to do it) and we heard her screaming the entire time. Mad kitty. And while we were sitting there waiting for the vet to come in, I realized it was the room where we took Lucy that one Sunday that I thought she was dying. At which point I was suddenly crying because I missed Lucy all over again and why do I have to be here at all?
And yes, I got queasy when the vet opened Luna's mouth and forced her to take worm meds, and I had to walk away when the vet was giving her the shots. And I can't help thinking: "I don't want to do this all over again, I can't do this all over again. I'm not ready, I don't want a kitten, I don't want to be here."
But here she sits, watching me type, half sleepy, half alert, and she's very cute, and she's here to stay. La Luna, the new ruling force in our household.