We’re still reeling from the whole gorilla throwing crap incident from last week. The one involving that mother-effing monkey hurling its dung at my 3 year. So, while we’re trying to put that behind us, everyone gets sick and now I know G¬_d is punishing me for writing that sarcastic post. The post where I’m all, “Why is everyone so worried about the Swine Flu?” and not real dangers like flame retardants in our pajamas. (Also I wanted to take this opportunity to mention that since following Rabbi Shmuley on Twitter, I’ve decided to spell the word G-O-D like this: G_d. That’s how Rabbi Shmuley spells G-O-D. He also endlessly Tweets on his new Michael Jackson book. He’s a man of the cloth and a Michael Jackson aficionado, so I’m taking his lead on the whole G_d spelling thing).
Wow, I don’t even know where to start. It happened so suddenly really.
We’d planned a quick trip to the zoo this morning. A “touch and go” we called it. Then in the afternoon I was to write a quick little “how-to-make a Michelada” post. I promise to get to the beer for breakfast part of the story, but first I just need to tell you what it feels like to see your daughter covered in gorilla crap.
As I’ve written here before, I don’t like the zoo. Not only the zoo here in Mexico, but any zoo. I don’t discriminate. I won’t drone on and on about it more than I already have, just know I don’t like the zoo anymore today than I did yesterday. In fact, I probably like it less. But we have visiting friends (Dani and her baby from Wisconsin) and my kids like the zoo, so it was on this week’s “places to go and things to see” list.
So, we were at the zoo. The zoo my kids love (in particular the zoo train) because they’re able to get really close to the animals’ cages, in particular the monkeys and gorillas. They’re housed in out-door cages within feet from the viewing areas. This close proximity to these animals appeals to small children who need to be continuously reminded, “Let me hold your hand so it doesn’t get bitten off.” Because I’m serious, they could be bitten off. So we’re standing a “safe” distance away from the gorilla cage. There are two gorillas sitting and facing outward looking at us. My kids and I are sharing this moment with these gorillas and I’m like, “Wow, this is why people like the zoo.” We’re eye to eye with these gorillas, and their stares are so pensive. I’m remembering things I’d read about Jane Goodall and her work with gorillas, and I’m connecting with these gorillas. I’m so in awe of God’s creatures and evolution and the significance of the gorilla…and then I notice it.
We made the decision to leave our cat behind with a series of foster cat families (a shout out to Steven, my Dad, Ben’s Mom, Erik and Laura) when we moved to Mexico. It was always our intent to send for her once we got settled. When we’d realized we were never going to get settled, we sent for her. Then we realized a cat cannot travel by itself. Yes, on paper it’s do-able. All you’d need is a small logistics team and a couple of spread sheets charting the necessary steps to accomplish such a “who would’ve known this was going to be such a big friggin big deal ” project. I’m not going to get into the whole rigmarole of vet appointments, customs and air travel requirements. Let’s just say that when Ben and I would discuss, “What ARE we going to do with the cat?” it usually ended with tequila and a nap.
Permanently leaving the cat back in the States was never an option. Lexi (11) LOOOVES this cat and when we finally arranged for the cat to come down, she filled our house with whoops of THE CAT IS COMING…THE CAT IS COMING…Then she raced off to change her Facebook profile picture to a photo of the cat. The cat was coming. Enter our friend Dani.
Dani got Ben and me out of the cat fix. She also saved me from my loneliness. She offered to bring down the cat. Never ask me to travel with your pet (I will leave it at my connection). Dani also makes my children more nutritious meals than I do, so Dani qualifies as having super powers. Dani also brought her gorgeous little baby – as in Dani brought her gorgeous little baby AND the cat. All this, and by herself, thereby nudging her super power status one step closer to sainthood, or hysteria, depending on how you look at it. Dani wasn’t supposed to come to Mexico, she was supposed to go with her husband to Tokyo for a marketing junket for his magazine COG. Luckily for us there was some kind of mix-up and Dani scrapped her plans for Tokyo, and she and her little baby came here to Mexico instead. Tokyo’s loss, our gain.
After the child and cat reunion, I stole Dani away and asked her how, I mean, really how, did you manage a baby, cat and stroller through two airports and a connection, all while still nursing. Turns out she managed just fine with only one incident. O.K., I agree she’s probably leaving out other smaller incidents to spare my feelings because how can you travel with a cat and a baby and only have one incident in six hours? So now I think she may also be a liar. A saintly liar. St. Liar.
st. liar and the baby
So she begins telling me about “THE” incident and I’m hanging on her every word because you know any story revolving around cats, cat urine, boobs, babies and travel will have to be told and retold. Dani tells me that during their connection, she and her entourage find a family bathroom so she can feed her little baby and let the cat use the bathroom. Wait? The cat needs to go to the bathroom while traveling? Oh yes. She tells me she’d brought along a paper plate and some cat litter so she could make a portable litter box for the cat in the bathroom. Once I processed that new image in my head, I asked her what she would have done if the cat had bolted behind the toilet. She hadn’t thought about that but had been concerned the cat would’ve tried to make a break for the bathroom door so she’d held onto the scruff of her neck while the cat peed.
I see.
The only tricky part, she said, was the baby was getting hungry and she didn’t have any water along with her in the family bathroom. Since her baby was now eating some solids, she wanted to offer her some cereal. So Dani recalls the scene inside the family bathroom:
“I’m changing the baby’s diaper on the changing table, while holding the cat by her scruff so she can pee. I have to pee too but that’s irrelevant at this point, and I’m trying to figure out what I can mix into the dry cereal that’s within arms reach. Then I realize my boobs are within arms reach and practically connected! So while leaving one hand on the cat and leaning over the changing table so the baby wouldn’t roll, I whip out a boob and begin hand expressing into the cereal bowl. This is actually working until, what I thought had been a locked door, swings open and a guy steps in and realizes what he’s looking at! Taking it in he shouts, “Oh Jesus!” and bolts out the door. In order to prevent another cat-peeing, milk-expressing-boob, baby-butt-sighting, I kick the stroller in front of the door. I’m on one foot, leaning over the changing table, one hand on the cat and expressing milk from my boob. Other than that the trip was really good. Oh yeah, but the guy accidentally comes in a second time, so I have to tell him to find the big boys bathroom. Perv.”
It took Dani a full hour after she’d arrived to finally tell her story; whereas I would have, still in the airport, walked through customs, arms flailing to the sound of the rant exploding from my mouth going on and on about my ordeal. Then again I don’t have super powers, but I do have a cat with a stamped passport.
"the cat"
