I may be a churchy kind of girl, but I'm not much of a Bible student. I'll be honest, I don't spend time "in the word" even though I'm sure there is a lot of wisdom to be had there.
Still, there are a few Bible stories I've heard over the years that they are somewhat recognizeable. Such as the one about King Solomon and the two women arguing over a baby. They both claimed the baby was hers. Wise old Solomon's advice, to cut the child in half, was something akin to what my father used to suggest when shown a little girl's booboo. Instead of kissing it and reassuring the daughter du jour that the limb containing the booboo will surely survive in one piece, my Dad would offer to cut off the affected leg/arm/foot/hand and let the blood drip in a bucket. Nice ....
Without skipping a beat, the women considered the advice. Afterall it was given by the king. Lady 1 actually thought it a great idea. "Let the baby be neither mine nor hers, but divide it. If I can't have the child," she cried, "she can't have it either." *
Lady 2 was aghast and begged the king not to hurt the child. "Give her the baby. I'd rather lose the child that see it slain." This is what Solomon needed to hear to determine which woman was the real mother. Alls well that ends well.
My life is not a Bible story. But I've just discovered a little matter that begs the advice of a king.
I was crawling on the floor, looking for a particular book on the bottom shelf of the bookcase.
As I ran my fingers across the book spines, I noticed something scratchy and sticky on several books. Picking one for a closer look, hoping against hope that the problem wasn't roach residue, i.e. poop. I know there are creepy crawlers that scutter about the house once the lights are turned off. I just don't want to think about it. "What Mary doesn't see, doesn't exist" is a pretty good life motto and has served me well over the years.
Unfortunately, living with blinders on, is not the cleanest of ways to live. As I examined one book, then another, then another, I noticed not only sticky book covers, but a suspicious odor.
"No I told myself, not wanting to believe it. No!" Alas, the nose does not lie. It was not roach poop I had discovered, it was dried up cat pee. Damn! Double Damn!
In his defense (it's undoubtedly the "He-cat" as I just can't figure how a girl cat could pee up 3 or 4 inches) if the cat in question is guilty, I don't believe this to be an ongoing guerrila pee tactic. I think he did the deed when he first arrived in a strange home and needed to "mark his territory." Obviously he wanted the other animals in the house, humans included, to know that he was an intellectual feline and the bottom shelf of books would be his alone. The shelf that contains such all time favorites as "Walter the Farting Dog," "Porkenstein," and "Skeleton Hiccups."
So, dear readers, I have to ask, what do I do now? I've already thrown out two almost new leather couches because of the impenetrating odor that resisted all cleaning products that swear to remove pet urine. Do I toss the books and pretend I'm just making room for new ones? Or do I toss the little black pee-er out on his little black pee maker. I know what my sweetie would say, but what would Solomon suggest?
I had really hoped to spend the day surrounded by the feel and aroma of just washed cotton ... a quilt just waiting to come together from the pieces. Instead I see pee removal in my future.
There may be Biblical wisdom to attach to this post, but I'm not sure what it is.
I'm off to strangle a cat,