Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Cement Shoes of the Worst Kind

Tomorrow my folks take off for a well-deserved vacation. The children and I are first on the roster for house-sitting duty. It is one of the reasons I am currently out-of-state. The kids got to see their grandparents for a week, now begins Phase II.

I have been spoiled as hell. My dad fixed the kids breakfast in the mornings. If I needed to make a run to the store, he was willing to watch them for a bit. Now starts the five day run on my own. I am sure we will survive, but there are a few key issues I am not thrilled about. The most important of which is their old cat. Or rather, my old cat from college whom I adopted in 1992.

The poor thing is on his last legs and has been since last summer. He has become more and more frail, and as my parents have a history of refusing to act like grownups and do what is best for a suffering animal this promises to be a long, drawn-out experience.

Therefore, part of my instructions for taking care of the house include burying the cat. It would be one thing for my dad to dig a giant hole in the backyard, but that would be far too simple. My father, in his infinite wisdom, has instructed me to encase the cat in concrete. Yes. I just said that.

I have been taken out to the garage, shown the bag of Quick-Set, shown the large box in which to entomb him, and listened to my parents argue whether or not to wrap the cat in a plastic grocery bag before I submerge him in the wet concrete.

You just can't make this shit up.

I have a lump in my stomach and am begging the animal-gods-that-be to please, please let me make it through these next five days without my children finding a stone-dead cat on the floor. My daughter still cries about the cat that died last year, and she wasn't even here when it happened. How am I going to explain that what looks like a groovy art project isn't for tracing handprints or initials.

11 comments:

Coal Miner's Granddaughter said...

Holy shit.

Hon? Do you need me to come down, take him to the vet, do the deed, have him cremated, and mix his ashes with the cement? Dad will never know. Seriously.

A Free Man said...

Getting rid of the cat Sopranos style. I like it.

Joe said...

This is mafia shit! Are they gonna have you put the hamster in a 50 gallon drum of sulfuric acid next?

restaurant refugee said...

I mean not to mock the difficulty of this situation - but, are you serious? This is conspicuous duty in the face parental difficulty. Good luck.

Tuli said...

I'm with CMGD on this one - cremate and mix the ashes.

As you are smart (and I'm not blowing smoke up your ass) I'm sure you have thought of this but just in case you haven't: you'll want to fill the box half way, put the cat in, then top it off. Don't try to sink the cat in a box of wet cement. I doubt it would be very successful.

Baroness von Bloggenschtern said...

Just what EXACTLY has this cat seen?

Lindsay said...

Oh. My. Gosh.

I hope the cat hangs in there.

What on earth are they going to do with the entombed cat anyway?

Krishanna said...

WTF?!!! GAH. Cremation is a way better option. Good idea, CMG.

Not Afraid to Use It said...

@CMGD: I'd thought about this already, but so far so good. Luckily, out vet down here has been kept in business solely by my parents. I think they'd help me out in a pinch.

@AFreeMan: I figured this was right up your alley.

@Joe: You should see what we did with the alligator.

@RestaurantRefugee: Serious as a heart attack. And I need all the luck people can give me.

@Tuli: Thanks for the advice. I am hoping I don't have to go there.

@BvB: I'd tell you, but then I'd have to bury you in a slab of concrete.

@Lindsay: Apparently my father things it is easier to bury a concrete slab.

@Krishanna: I think they ought to cremate him and scatter the ashes, but who the hell ever listens to me?

faemom said...

It it was me, and the cat died. I would take him to the shelter and just make the cement block. Who would know?

Gypsy said...

Oooof. Thank goodness you have friends like Heather.