There is a hole. Not in my life. Not in my heart. But in the back door leading into the garage. It’s a cat door-sized hole that’s been missing an actual cat door for easily a solid three years.
Initially, I ordered not one but two different types of “easy-to-install” pet doors to try and resolve the gaping issue. They weren’t easy. Nor installed.
I tried. Both boys tried. A Dremel was involved. Cursing was involved. And yet, cat door-sized hole remains. So duct tape it is. Fine. It works. No one will see that door. The cat is too fat to care. Myself? I’m too busy and cash poor to care. Or maybe not “cash poor” but more like, “I ain’t paying for a new back door AND a dude to install it when I really do need those boots.” Or something like that.
Duct tape over the hole is working splendidly until a lean and far more motivated young cat became a part of the family. Ozzie is Jack’s cat. Sissy (El Gordo) kind of doesn’t belong to anyone, and she’d happily give the middle finger to any of you. All of you. I give the superfluous details about the cats because I reckon you might be doing the math that I have two cats. Two cats and I’m a single 43-year-old woman who lives by herself half of the time. Yeah. OK. If you know me well, you can shut it. So back to Ozzie, who, undaunted, simply takes his deft paws and peels back the duct tape. Not once. Not twice. But many, many times. Like his older, fatter, fewer give-a-craps sister, he’s also prone to throwing up a middle finger.
If you’ve gotten this far, you’re probably also inclined to throw up a middle finger or at least send a solid eye roll my way for wasting your time. I’m sorry. Except I’m not. Sorry, nor wasting your time. Feel free to let me know if you disagree with the latter. What’s compelling me to straight up open a Word document and put my thoughts down in permanent ink (so to speak), is the fact that we ALL have our cat door sized holes.
Like Ozzie my cat—sorry, Jack’s cat — life can be a jerk. You think the duct tape is handling things when right as you turn around, life is peeling that duct tape back and saying, “Now whatcha gonna do?” And there’s that damn hole. Where the AC leaks out. That the dog sneaks through at any given opportunity. Let’s not forget the aesthetics of the situation either, which aren’t good, in case you had any doubt. The logical solution is to buy a new back door, have it hung and eliminate the problem forever. So simple that I should be embarrassed it hasn’t been done. But I’m not.embarrassed. I’m also not letting it keep me up at night nor do I have any immediate plans to buy a new door. Maybe for Christmas. My birthday is in April. Treat yo’self, eh?
Today I configured my fancy SkyBell HD doorbell that has been offline for about 288 days. I replaced batteries in two clocks, which took me a total of two minutes to do, when they’ve both needed batteries replaced for months. Who needs a working clock anyway? Yours truly, the baller business owner of not one but TWO blow dry bars, sold my old nightstands today for $50 because I could use the pocket money. Do me a favor at this point and make sure you’re currently sitting down: I even shampooed my own hair this Monday evening.
I think every day has its cat door-sized holes, don’t you think? The things we intend to do but other items on our list take priority, even if they shouldn’t. The people in our lives who deserve our time and energy but so often don’t get either. Banfield keeps reminding me that Ozzie needs his vaccinations because obviously I TOTALLY have time for that … to literally herd a cat and take him to the vet. As I sit here in my favorite spot on the couch, I can hear one of the aforementioned clocks ticking in the quiet. It sounds nice. (Note to Millennials: Google “clock that goes tick tock.”)
“Hey Alexa…check HomeDepot.com for their selection doors.” Silence. I still just hear the clock. Oh wait, I don’t have an Alexa. It’s just me, the TWO cats, one geriatric dog and the CAT. DOOR. SIZED. HOLE. We all have one or a dozen.
Katie Holditch is a mother of two who owns Blo Blow Dry Bar in The Woodlands.