It was about 5 a.m. when I heard the beeping noise.
It took me a moment to identify it, but I knew rather quickly what it was — the sensor on the salt-water fish tank. Despite carefully mixing the solution and changing the water in the reservoir container, I had failed. The pump wasn’t working properly and the sensor was blaring like a smoke detector after a failed attempt at broiling garlic toast.
I unplugged it to stop the noise and decided to wait an hour before texting my husband to untangle the catastrophe.
And speaking of “cat” -astrophe, I walked from the fish tank into the kitchen and promptly discovered one of the two cats and thrown up on the floor.
It wasn’t even 6 a.m. for crying out loud.
One of the biggest challenges in running the household while my husband isolates himself during his stint working on a COVID-19 unit has been caring for the animals.
I didn’t grow up with animals. I had a pet bird for probably a month when I was very little, but that’s it. We never had a dog or a cat or fish. I love animals, but it’s taken me the better part of my adult life to be comfortable around them. I’ve had dreams that I owned a cat and forgot to feed it. I’ve also been bitten by dogs when out for a run or bike ride, despite the fact that owners swear they are “just friendly.”
But I digress.
I’ve entered into a slight animal kingdom family. And happily, if not with some trepidation that I’ll mess it up and accidentally kill something, I’m tending the household during this pandemic.
My husband loves fish tanks and we currently have three in use, with a fourth one getting set up. The fourth is designed to take the place of one of the other tanks. I think. I love my husband’s enthusiasm and encourage it, but at some point he goes into technical terms and I start to zone out. Right now, I wish I had paid closer attention.
My father-in-law is in charge of feeding the fish. I am in charge of the water in the salt-water tank, which now consists of adding regular old tap water to the back to make sure it all doesn’t evaporate. Apparently, this fine. It will likely damage the corals I suspect, but so far, the clown fish is still swimming along like Nemo.
My step-daughter has a hamster and I replenish its food and water once a week. I’ve had trouble remembering to feed Hamtaro, but I’ve gotten into a better routine. Changing its water bottle was an entirely different story as I desperately want to avoid taking the top off the cage tempting the possibility that the hamster might escape. In which case, he wouldn’t last five minutes with the cats around. Luckily, we’ve avoid that, albeit with a hefty dose of profanity-laced sentences.
My father-in-law has two more pet duties — feeding the cats and cleaning their liter pan. So really, I get off pretty easy. But I am the first one up, and when the cats decide to throw up, I’m the one cleaning it up these days. I did not sign up for cat puke patrol, yet, here I am.
And I can’t be too mad. Tabby is the cuddling cat, who sits on my lap and sleeps, bringing me in hook, line, and sinker. In the mornings when I meditate, I sit on the couch in a cross-legged position and Tabby comes right up into my lap, meditating with me. Move over goat yoga. We’ve got cat meditation now. Along with someone who now loves animals in a new way.
While it’s been a steep learning curve, I’m falling more in love with the life in this house every day.
