The worst idea ever

by Katie on August 31, 2009

To establish my position in this story, I have to give a little background.

Last Monday night, we actually ate a dinner at a normal hour, washed dishes, then headed out on an irrigating adventure. When we returned, I was putting the dishes away while Brandon was on the computer.
So, we have scorpions, right. Brandon hunts them and sometimes tries to catch them. And he’s been stung, an experience that told me I never wanted to be.
That night, I took one step over to reach into the cabinet, and felt something under my foot. When I looked down, all I could do was scream. And I mean scream.
It was a scorpion. RIGHT UNDER MY FOOT. Like, my foot was touching it. I remembered the kind of pain Brandon was in, and just knew it was going to get me. My reflexes finally kicked in, and I jumped back and stood there trying to catch my breath while Brandon came running into the kitchen asking what in the world was going on.
I finally mustered out, “Scorpion…scorpion…under my foot…almost got me…under the island…get it…get it…”
He slid the island back and killed the scorpion.
The next morning, I was browsing Craigslist, because that’s we do occasionally. And I saw an ad in the Farm and Garden section for free kittens. It suddenly clicked: cats ate all kinds of little critters, and I knew I had heard they killed scorpions. We clearly had a scorpion issue.
I played it safe and sent Brandon a text, “Can we get a cat to kill things around here?”
He replied, “Tried it before. Doesn’t work. They run off.”
I took this response as he didn’t really care, he just thought it wouldn’t hang around. But it was free, so even if it ate just a few things and then ran off, no big deal.
So I picked up a cat. At this point I should probably mention neither of us even like cats. I never have. I always thought they were pretty disgusting, actually. And I was a little scared of them after my sister’s cat bit me on the neck in the middle of the night when we were younger. Very traumatizing.
But here I was, bringing a cat home.
This was the same day I left the paper on the cheese in Brandon’s sandwich. While he was eating in the truck, I broke the news, “So, that cat I was asking you about earlier? I got it.”
“What? Katie, we just got rid of the goat two days ago, and now you got a cat? I’m going to come home tomorrow and there’s going to be a giraffe in our yard.”
“Well, you agreed they kill things and they’re okay to have around.”
“Yeah, they do. So it’s a stray?”
“Well, it’s mom was…”
“So it’s a kitten? You got a kitten? What we needed was one of those nasty stray cats no one can get within 20 feet of, and you got a kitten.”
“Ohhh, well you didn’t specify that earlier. And this one was free. People don’t put out ads for stray cats.”
“No, they don’t. You just have to find one and trap it.”
At this point, it doesn’t sound like such a bad idea, right? Just wait…
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