The stupidest thing I’ve done (today!)

I hurt myself quite often. It’s never on purpose, but I hurt myself frequently. When I was about six, I decided to shave my legs. I grabbed a razor and dragged it up my leg, leaving a scar that I still have today. One year at my school’s Christmas play, I had this massive scab on the front of my shin. Imagine a pretty red dress for Christmas, nice little white lacy socks, with this ginormous red, bloody scab in between. I was trying to walk on some concrete pavers and fell off. My mother used to tell me “It’s just a clumsy stage; you’ll grow out of it.” The year I turned 27, she quit telling me that.
So yesterday, my nephew Josh had a job interview and, being the great aunt that I try to be, I was ironing his shirt for him. I picked up the can of spray starch by the lid. You can probably figure out what happened next. Gravity is still in effect, so the heavy can of spray starch fell out of the lid and landed right on top of my left foot, where my toes attach to rest of my foot. I hopped around moaning for a while and then ironed the shirt and went on to church. Things like this happen to me all the time, so it’s really no big deal.
This is where the stupidity comes in. Tonight I’m in the shower. ****** Caution – this next sentence may be TMI, so you may want to skip it. I have this pair of shoes that are really, really, comfortable, but they make my feet . . . how can I say this delicately . . . a tad odoriferous. Whenever I wear them, I can’t take them off until I’m ready to take a shower. ******************** Okay, you can read again now. I’m in the shower, scrubbing my feet. I notice this dirty spot on top of my foot and I’m scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing. Then, I realize it hurts and the dirt is NOT going away. Then, it hits me! DUH!!! It’s a bruise! I’m trying to scrub off a bruise!! What kind of dummy am I??? I start laughing; water goes up my nose. . . Good times, good times!!!

My Bubba-cat

So, I have this cat named Bubba. Sometimes I call him Bubba-cat; sometimes I call him Bubbalicious and sometimes just Bub. I got him in May of 1996, when he was just about six weeks old. He was so tiny; he couldn't jump up onto my bed. I had to pick him up and put him on the bed. He has grown into quite the monster cat. He's very long, if he stands on his hind legs, he can read pas the doorknob on my front door. When he lays flat on top of me, he reaches from my shoulders, almost to my knees.

Bubba thinks he is an alarm clock. If I don't wake up, he wakes me up. Either he jumps on my stomach, or he climbs up on my chest of drawers and hits the blinds on the window so they crash into the window. He does it over and over until I either get up or swing a pillow at him. He also has a horrible habit. He chews on plastic. Plastic bags, trash bag handles, whatever. One day I picked up a plastic folder to take to school and it had little teeth marks all over the end of it. The really weird thing is, he chews on them with his back teeth, not his front teeth. It's very strange to watch him.

He also thinks he's a watch cat. When my Mom died, I had to run an errand, and my friend Laquita was coming to my house. My nephews were downstairs so I left my door unlocked, because Quita was almost here and we'd be back soon. When she tried to come in my house, Bubba started hissing at her and almost wouldn't let her in. During Spring Break this year, my sister came to get some of her stuff from my house. My dad and my nephew and I were cleaning out the garage. Everything was fine as long as I was here, even though I was downstairs and she was upstairs. But, the minute we got in my car to run to Lowe's, Bubba went after her. He hid under stuff and jumped out at her, he hissed at her, and finally, she put a laundry basket over him to get away. When we got home, I noticed a plastic spoon on the window outside my front door. She had to use the spoon to get out of the house.

Bubba can hear me open a can no matter where he is in the house. If I open any sort of can, he comes bounding into the kitchen, meowing for his dinner. It doesn't matter if I'm opening a can of soup or whatever, he thinks it's cat food. He loves cheese, especially the cheese they put on nachos at Taco Bell. He likes queso and loves the chicken from a Wendy's chicken sandwich.

My nephew and niece are both terrified of him. He attacks their feet, hides behind stuff, and jumps out at them. I think he's playing but they both think he's trying to hurt them. I would swear he laughs whenever they are scared of him. When I went to London, my dad and his wife "cat-sat" for me. Bubba took a road trip to his Grandpa's house. He did not enjoy the three-hour drive and whined pitifully from Auburndale to Wauchula. When he realized he wasn't getting out of the carrier, he just went to sleep. He spent his first several days at my dad's house hiding under the bed. Every time they tried to check on him, he would swipe at them. He doesn't have any front claws, so he can't really hurt you, but he still tries. Daddy finally got a flyswatter after him. Whenever he misbehaved, Daddy would swat him with the flyswatter. He finally got so comfortable, he would swat back at the flyswatter. He's definitely a strong willed child. Daddy kept asking me if he could give Bubba a bath. I told him he was welcome to, but I wouldn't advise it!!!

When I was in the 6^th grade, my teacher missed some days of school because she had to have her pet put to sleep. I can't remember whether it was a dog or a cat, (I'm thinking a dog, but I'm not sure.) I remember thinking that was the silliest thing I'd ever heard, missing work because her pet was sick. Now, I understand. Bubba is very much like my child. I worry when he's sick and I spank him when he misbehaves. I had no idea when I got him that this one little cat would become such a huge part of my life. Crazy as it sounds; I love my Bubba-cat.