January is Not My Favorite

I am not sure if I am a fan of January.  It might has something to do with the frigid temperatures and lack of sunlight, or it could be that bad tends to hold off until the holidays are over. Last year around this time I has dealing with funeral arrangements for my brother and it wasn't what one would call a positive start to a new year.  The year did get better and I mended a couple of fences along the way.   This year almost started the same as last year, with a funeral, but thankfully it didn't. 

Iggins & Dib

My bathroom is being remodeled. When it is done, it is going to look awesome. I have been exceedingly pleased with all the work that has been put into it. My cats have been less then pleased by all the work going on in the house.  Dib is angry that he isn't allowed out of the downstairs to help the nice gentleman doing all the work.  He has been quite verbal with his grunts and growls and the way he throws his little kitty body against the door hoping that it will open so that he can go help in a very non helpful way.  Iggins just wants to hide and have nothing to do with anyone, and preferably be away from Dib who is full of pent up kitty energy and tries to take it out on him in a not so playful way. 

I was getting ready to come home from  work the other day and my husband called me right as I was putting my coat on to combat the winter chill.  The message was short.  Iggins was missing. Dib had succeeded in opening the door and the front door had been open at the time, because the plumber was prepping to do plumbing stuff. No one could find Iggins.  Dib didn't seem all that worried, because he had achieved getting out of lock up and was his smug self, but Iggins was missing. 

For the next three hours I wandered the block with a flashlight, clicking the cat food dishes calling Iggins name in single digit temperatures.  I think I talked to more neighbors in a single night then I have in the last four years.  I registered Iggins as missing and posted information on social media as I slowly began to lose my mind. My husband created cat beds and put them on both porches and set out food, hoping that he would come home and tried to console me as I turned into a mess of snuffles and tears.  Iggins in my cat.  Jon and I share ownership of him, but he really is my cat.  He likes me best, probably because I am the mistress of the canned cat food and I know how to use my thumbs and rub his face the right way. He is sassy, moody orange fluff ball with and extra fluffy belly and a smirky look to him.  He trusts red heads and hates sneezes, and loves me. 

After circling the block for the fifth time I had decided to go home, go upstairs, have a good cry and then go and circle the block again. I was on the guest bed cuddling with a giant stuffed frog that sits on the bed and sobbing when a thin stripped orange tail comes into view. I seriously thought I was hallucinating.  I thought my brain was playing tricks on me. I don't normally hallucinate, or at least as far as I know I don't.  I reached out and pulled that orange fluff ball into my arms and tried not to wipe snot onto his fur as I cuddled him.   I had never been so terrified fearing for his safety and thankful that he was okay, and angry that he wouldn't come out, but mostly relieved. 

I am still not completely sold on January, but it is getting better and at the end of January my bathroom will look fabulous.