The Ugly Cry

This is something I’ve become well acquainted with this past weekend.  Like one of those people you try to hide from in the grocery store – duck and cover! – I can’t seem to stop it from finding me.

…and reducing me to a puffy, red, shuddering, tear-racked monster.

Operative words:  Puffy and Red.

Ever since I was a young kid, I’ve avoided crying because of the way it makes me look.  Probably a sad fact, but true regardless.

My eyes puff out as if I’m allergic to my own tears, my skin becomes blotched with red patches, veins start popping out in my eyeballs, my lips swell up to twice the size (not quite as attractive as you’d think it’d be, believe me), the mucous starts flowing…

There’s a reason I deserved my childhood nickname – the “Ice Queen”.  I was stoic beyond stoic.  (At least that was true outside my den… er… bedroom)  But that was once upon a time, before I had kids.  Precisely when James was born, the Ice Queen melted and the dam broke.

I thought I had all my shizzle dizzle under control until this past weekend.  Apparently I was wrong.  It’s been a long-weekend-long, ugly cry-fest.  I should win some sort of award.

Saturday, as I outlined in my previous post, I sobbed bringing Boomer home.

Saturday evening, I cried on the phone with the vet after we realized my cat was injured.

Sunday, I bawled while petting Peter, just praying he was going to be o.k.

There are some nasty pictures ahead, so brace yourself.

I’m not an angry person in general, but if I was, boy I’d just be bloody angry.  This weekend was supposed to be a nice, calm long weekend… we were bringing home the puppy, going to do some yard work, hang out with the kids and just be a family.  Sounds good, right?  Well, we ended up doing most of that despite it all, but it was all under a cloud of rain because of the following:

Like I said… brace yourselves……

That is my fourth baby, Peter’s neck.  Found under his collar about 2 hours after we brought Boomer home.

Now, the first thought that came into my mind was that he got his head stuck in something sharp and had trouble getting it out.

In case the pictures aren’t too clear, the lacerations go all the way around his neck in a perfect circle, with the deepest wound (almost 1cm deep) under his chin – he’s seriously lucky to be alive and no sliced jugular veins.

My second thought was – what if someone did this on purpose?  I mean, I know there are sick people out there… but I don’t live in the effin’ ghetto.  I live in a small town in Canada where the crime rate is practically nothing.

By reasoning it out, we have pretty much eliminated the head-stuck scenario.  Seems pretty clear he had help getting into and out of whatever situation he was in.  That greatly increases the probability that it was malicious.

So that’s Peter’s story.  I cried periodically when I had imaginary glimpses of some Eh-hole taking my cat-baby’s head off. (I have a seriously sick imagination, people.)  I’d cry whenever I thought he was acting slightly “off”, thinking that in the next minute he was going to keel over and die.  I cried when James and Julia found the wound on his neck and started screaming and crying as if he was already dead.  Let me tell you, it’s a bit disconcerting hearing your 6 year old son repeatedly wail and shriek “His head is going to fall off!!  He’s going to DIEEEE!”

Okay, maybe that is a bit funny.  See?  I can find light in the darkest of places.

… I doubt anyone could find anything funny in my next story.

Earlier today, my daughter Julia was visiting our neighbors – friends of ours – and was playing with their cat.  She’s played with this cat before and kitty has, before today, been quite tolerant with her.  She was carrying the cat outside and something spooks the kitty (we’re not entirely sure what happened, and though she’s usually an adept cat-wrangler, she could very well have provoked it somehow).  Kitty proceeds to bite her (because kitty has had her claws removed, she’s learned to compensate with her teeth)… Julia drops the kitty, but kitty doesn’t stop biting her.

Julia ended up with 16 deep puncture wounds on one lower calf, two deep lacerations on one finger (the doctor will let us know tomorrow if there is any tendon damage), a couple puncture wounds in her opposite hand thumb and a few more minor (but very painful for her judging from the screams I’m getting when I try to put polysporin on them) bite marks and scratches on her neck under her ear.  There was a lot of blood… I don’t think I’ll ever get the vision of the blood all over my front steps out of my head.

We brought her to the hospital (Julia was screaming and I was bawling) and they bandaged her all up and sent us home with a prescription for antibiotics.

Our neighbors came over with a bag of goodies for her (including the movie Tangled), which made her pretty darn happy despite everything.  She got gummy worms!  And candy keys!  And bubblegum!  And Skittles!  Now that she knows what happens after she gets hurt, I’m quite sure she is plotting the next escapade that will get her back into the hospital.

I don’t think anyone is 100% sure what’s going to happen with the kitty in the future.  It seems pretty clear that she’s too unpredictable to be around kids.  I honestly don’t want to even think about the option that many people would push for.  When my neighbor mentioned it, I started bawling (AGAIN – I KNOW!).  I’m the girl who picks up worms on the sidewalk after it rains and “saves” them by throwing them back into the grass.  I can’t handle euthanasia.

…So.  That was my weekend.  Anyone want to trade?

*Yawn*  Goodnight, y’all.



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3 responses to “The Ugly Cry

  1. OMG that is the most shittastic weekend ever, I am so sorry! Poor Peter! Poor Julia! Poor you! Stiff drinks all around, and here’s hoping this week is much, much better.

  2. Pingback: Our Little Friends | creatinglittlemonsters

  3. lovely

    hope fell much much better

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