How To Hold A Cat Without Losing An Eye: When Disaster Strikes Only the Strong Survive

It’s a sad day here at How to Hold a Cat Without Losing an Eye. Yesterday afternoon, tragedy struck our household. While working here in my office I heard a loud crash come from somewhere in the house. I just happened to be on the phone with my husband at the time. Together, (sort of) we explored the house to find the source of the disaster. I found Kit in the living room. Her shorthaired tail was fluffed out fluffier than a feather boa. Several picture frames that I keep on the mantle were scattered across the floor. Amidst the frames lay my favorite vase shattered into a thousand (ok, it was more like thirty) pieces.

“Nooooooooooooooooooooo,” I wailed! I loved that vase! It was a wedding gift from a friend and it was so cute! It was made in the shape of a cat and it’s two ears open up to hold flowers. Adorable isn’t a strong enough word to describe it. It was one of my favorite pieces.

Kit knowing she’s not allowed on the mantle darted for the bedroom. My husband hung up the phone to let me face my grief in silence. Friday, unable to resist disasters, strolled over to inspect the ceramic carcass. I shooed him away and began cleaning up the scene of the disaster. Kit commits murder thoroughly. The pieces were scattered about the living room, fragments were found in the fireplace (was she planning to destroy the evidence?!) some of them smaller than my fingertip. It looked like a trashcan burial was soon to follow. Still, a nagging thought persisted. Ceramic glues back together almost seamlessly, but do I have the skills? Archaeologists glue thousand year old ceramics back together all the time, I reflected. Suddenly confident I collected the pieces with renewed vigor.

I rushed them to the ER, my computer desk, and began surgery prep. Superglue? Check! Paper towels? Check! Anything else? No! I was ready. I began the operation. Progress was slow and painful. It seemed like half the cat was missing. For hours, I toiled over my patient, winning small victories and suffering crushing setbacks. After hours of diligent labor, I sat back from my work and wiped my brow. The cat would live. It would look like a ridiculous parody of Quasimodo and the dry flowers I keep in it will forever have to hide the missing piece of its ear but my favorite vase is back home recovering.

I’m holding up ok. It was a near disaster but knowing my vase is counting on me helps me face each new day with determination to overcome crack lines and those little bits of superglue that I didn’t quite get off.

Now that the vase is on it’s way to recovery I have a few moments to consider Kit’s actions. Why would she commit such a heinous act? What does she have against that vase? Is she threatened by it’s cuteness? Does she want flowers stuck in her ears? These are just some of the questions we hope will be answered in the upcoming trial.

It’s hard for a mother to see her two children squabble like that. As a form of therapy, I’ve decided to visit the local art studio where my vase was born. Nothing’s certain but I might just buy another one to replace my Quasimodo vase. By the way, does anyone know a good way to get super glue off your fingers?