I am not a cat person; if you know me, then this is abundantly clear. I am allergic to cats, I don’t like them in general, and I hate their claws. I am barely a pet person in general, which is why Zohar is barely my friend because he is cute and chill, but sometimes the hair and the mud really make me lose sight of how cute he is.

Today is my 4th day staying at this beautiful home in a beautiful neighborhood in the Bay Area. I was woken up this morning at 5AM by the sounds of meowing from down the hall. This was so loud that I thought that the cats had escaped their bedroom and gotten into the main hallway, which scared me out of my skin (the dog doesn’t like cats either). So I start looking around for a cat, but see that the bedroom door is closed. Perfect. They are just super loud. But then Zohar is alive, awake, alert, and enthusiastic to start the day. I am not an idiot, I know not to walk a dog before or after the natural light is gone, so I let him into the backyard, feed him and the cats breakfast, and wait until 6:10 to take him to the park.

I should note, this park is down the street from the house, and it is gated so I can let him off leash to play fetch in the twilight hours before anyone with any ounce of sanity is awake. So I take him to the park, it is all well and good, but then I find Zohar scarfing down an Unidentifiable Doughy Object (an UDO, if you will). He ate it in less than three seconds, which is horrible because I have literally no idea what was in/on it (chocolate? cheese? COVID?)… I was super mad at him, so I brought him home to get him out of the freedom and back into the homestead where I know that he cannot eat anything.

I get him home, check on the kitties and only count two. I am responsible for three… I start freaking out, panicked and checking every space a cat can squeeze. I looked under beds, in closets, in the bathroom, in the rest of the house (they really aren’t the types to roam). I had a full fledge panic attack for 5 minutes before realizing that I can shake the treat bag, and the cats will all gather around me like I am Jared Leto and they are my disciples. I grad the treat bag and start shaking it, low and behold the third gray kitten saunters into the room like nothing has happened. Mind you, the previous night I was stress calling friends because I couldn’t find this same cat, and she was hiding in the sock drawer. I locked her in the room to investigate where she had come from, and this little demon had hidden herself in a drawer underneath the main bedroom’s bed and closed it on herself. This is also all happening before I am able to get coffee.

I went back to the main portion of the house to grab coffee and sit with Zohar to read my chapter of homework for my accounting ethics class, but G-d forbid I have any moments of peace before 7AM. I was startled by the fire alarm blaring in the main room and the back bedrooms, and I thought Holy Shit something is on fire. I opened the windows and checked the stove, ovens, and microwave, but none of them were in use or turned on by accident. I then checked the cats in the back bedrooms, and wouldn’t you believe it, they set it off by clawing at it.

At this point, I have had it. I am tired, I am frustrated, and I just need to be anywhere but here. I grab Zohar, put his leash on and try to get him into my car so I can take him to Santa Cruz for a quick trip. Of course he doesn’t want to sit in my car because it is too high up. After trying for ten minutes to coax him into the backseat and trunk, I put him back in the house and set off on my own.

Getting away was so needed. I had to pick up interview clothes for an in-person socially distant job interview this week, but I also just needed to be by the sea again. My trip was only a few hours, but it was so lovely not having to walk anything or water anything, and to get to see my parents for a bit. I got back within a four hour window and Zohar was so happy to see me. I figured out that if I take him on a stupid long walk he stops bringing me his muddy, slobbery toys to throw and relaxes for the rest of the day. I took him for a two mile stroll around his neighborhood, and now he is resting peacefully on the couch. The cats are crazy, but I was able to wrangle them into the bedroom and get them fed, and their litter box scooped (gross).

All of this to say, that sometimes a bad day requires a change of scenery. It is also important to analyze why a situation makes you unhappy. For me, I hate pet dirt (hair, drool, litter, dirt), and I suck at managing my time to give others my attention. If I ever get a dog (cause lord I will never ever ever get a cat), then it has to be an older dog who likes walks and sleeping and doesn’t shed. That’s all I am willing to handle.

Pray that my next four days are not filled with anymore missing creatures or fire alarms (<3)..