This day was a test. It was only a test.

I've got this extremely moody, cranky, 18-year-old cat that loves me and hates everyone else because they're competition for my attention.

 

Yesterday morning, we had a bit of a... let's call it a "difference of opinion." And when all was said and done, the cat had been thrown out the back door (yes, I let her back in before leaving for work), and my hand looked like this.

 

 

I should have taken it as an omen for how the day would unfold.

 

The cat has been making it clear that she does not appreciate the fact we no longer lock the dog in the kennel at night, but rather leave him loose. She's expressing her displeasure by choosing alternate locations to serve as her litter box. Such as my treadmill and the carpeted landing on the steps.

I'm at wits end.

This obviously has to stop. And so we had a little conversation about it. Actually it was a rather loud conversation that involved me yelling, her growling, me rubbing her nose in her latest choice of target and then carrying her to the back door. But I couldn't just send her outside with a dramatic flourish as I'd hoped because guess who else was outside? Gus. The same hyper dog who inspired this latest show of attitude from the cat.

 

I tried to get Gus to come inside, but of course he was fascinated by my attempts to hang on to a now-snarling cat. As I straddled the doorway, he ran past me once inside, just as Spike clamped down on my hand. My shout of pain, combined with the cat's loud growl was enough to excite Gus further and before I could toss the cat, he'd run right back past me out the door.

 

"AJ! I NEED SOME HELP HERE! GET THE DOG!" I shouted.

 

"Mom, you're scaring me!" was his terrified response.

 

"And the cat is BITING me! GET. THE. DOG!"

 

One more painful chomp and several loud snarls from the cat later,  the dog was inside and the cat was outside. And I was doing my best to stop the bleeding and calm my very panicked son.

 

And the day just kept getting better.

 

For work, I got to drive up to the Range for a late afternoon public meeting. Which exactly four people showed up to attend.

 

On the way home, I needed to make a three quick stops: at Sam's Club, Target and Cub. I pulled into the lot at Sam's Club and checked my phone. The battery was low, but I needed to see if I'd missed any late-day e-mails.

 

Sure enough I had. I've been working for more than a week to coordinate schedules for a video project. Just yesterday morning I'd finally had success, setting up four interviews. And then the videographer emailed that he wasn't available one of the days I'd scheduled. He claimed he told me to avoid that date. I knew he hadn't. He later emailed that he found the message he'd sent and discovered it had gone to my old email address. (He's now working to adjust his schedule.)

 

With this newest complication fresh in my mind, I got out of the car, slammed the door shut and then saw the keys still sitting in the center console. Locked out!

 

I had my cell phone, but it was useless to call Jeff. Not because of the ever-draining battery, but because he was with the kids at hockey practice in Carlton. And that arena is just a few feet beyond the edge of cell phone reception. Seriously.

 

So I spent 45 minutes walking up and down the aisles of Sam's Club (I only needed four things) while waiting for hockey practice to end. At last I reached Jeff. They headed up immediately, but it's still a half hour drive.

 

When Jeff reached the parking lot, he looked like he was ready to kill someone. I know I made this same mistake last year, but his expression seemed a bit overly harsh. "I'm sorry," I said.

 

Very slowly he responded, "I don't have the key to your car with me."

 

That explains the extreme frustration! In an effort to lighten the load on his key ring, he doesn't carry the key to my car, and didn't think about that in his rush to rescue me.

 

And so I climbed in the minivan where the kids sat - still in their hockey gear - and headed home to get the key. An hour later we were back. And a half hour after that... just shy of 9:30... we were at last home.

 

It was so good to be home, I was almost happy to see the cat. But not quite.

 

On the eve of Thanksgiving, let me just reflect that I will be very grateful to never have a day like that again.