Saturday morning. Cricket (my darling little kitten) was snuggling on my chest while I was knitting and watching Grey's Anatomy. There was hot tea, oatmeal with raisins and it was perfect. Then Cricket jumps off my chest and I look down. Morning ruined. Less than 1 second flat and my gorgeous morning was gone. Cricket had let two yellow diarrhea stains on my t-shirt.
Cut to three hours later. I am quarantining Cricket in my empty room and cleaning up little piles of liquid yellow diarrhea all over my house and personal items.
Two days later. Cricket is still sick. Weak. Not eating, not drinking and will not shut up. My thoughts: I cannot lose another pet. This kitty cannot die on my watch.
Later that night - call a vet whose number I got from a friend. Its 10pm, which is an inappropriate time to call anyone who is not a close friend or family in Costa Rica. Biiftu (thank God for her support) helped me call the vet who said to give Cricket fluids and bring her into the vet the next day. After emptying a eye drop bottle and force feeding her some water we go to bed. I am worried sick.
Next day the alarm goes off at 5am so that we can walk to the bus stop. The night before I had prepared a bag with a layer of plastic bags, followed by newspapers, which I was intending on putting Cricket in, and then sneaking her on the bus.
*A short aside on why that is the stupidest plan ever: Do you know why I decided to name my kitten Cricket - because my kitten in broken and never (never never never) shuts up. She loves to meow, to cry, to sing, to talk - anything that is loud and demands attention. Now she is also a baby - so you have to forgive her for her annoyingness - but I bet you are starting to see the flaw in my bus plan.
So I look out the window as the alarm goes off and I think "Why is it light outside?" I am still pretty hazy in my midwakingness but I am present enough to know that the sun doesn't rise until 5:15am at the earliest. "Why is it light outside..." "FUCK!" (excuse my language, but that was the word that came out of my mouth as I realized that my American alarm is programed to adjust for daylight savings times). Which meant that as the alarm went off at 5am, it was really 6am in Costa Rica and the bus would leave in 15 minutes from the stop which is an hour walk away. So we set off on foot, not so happy, but walking nevertheless.
We struck a goldmine, with a ride to town from only 25 minutes outside of Gallo Pinto. When we got in the car (of a man whom I know through my work with the water committee) his eyes just about popped out of his head when after driving for 2 or 3 minutes Cricket lets out a characteristic "MEOOOW." Luckily we did not get kicked out, but I know that we would have been kicked off if we had been on the bus. (Especially since the bus driver changed a few weeks back and the new guy is not yet my friend).
After arriving in Guatuso, getting Cricket dewormed, and getting some anti-diarrhea meds, we needed to run our errands. Let me tell you that I got some strange looks in India, but never have I gotten so many strange looks as carrying around a bag that was mysteriously MEOOOWING. Places I took my cat: bread store, government office, post office, bank, craft store, and grocery store. In other more entertaining words: places that I took a meowing bag and got strange looks - everywhere.
The man who gave me a ride in the morning offered to take me back at 10am. GREAT. Stellar. Perfect. Except...little to my knowledge he was planning on finishing his (and subsequently my) journey three hours outside of Gallo Pinto. Which means a three hour walk for Chelsea, in the bright mid-day sun, with a cat and all of her purchased items from town (of which there were many because I purchased them thinking that I was getting a ride all the way to Pinto). Bummer.
Arrive in Gallo Pinto three hours later. Hot. Sweaty. And with very little ganas to do anything. Except go the to pulperia and treat myself to a cold drink. Because I don't have a refrigerator, cold beverages (water, juice, an occasional soda pop) are a rare commodity. But today I was ready to treat myself. Guess what- BOTH (I repeat both) of the pulperias in town were closed. That has never happened to me.
At that point in time (with thoughts of cleaning up (read: hand washing) seemingly endless cat diarrhea-ed items in my house, missing buses due to time changes in other countries, insanely heavy groceries, sunstroke, and an insatiable desire to break into the pulperia to steal a cold beverage) I looked to the heavens, took a deep breath and said "REALLY?!?"
Now this is by far not the most difficult day that I have had during my Peace Corps experience. But it was definitely a day where I felt that someone up there was looking down and giggling at the hoops I was jumping through.
Well I never got my cold drink. But I got home, sat in front of the fan for 20 minutes with my eyes closed (dreaming about air conditioning) and then I got my butt up and cleaned the house. Cause that's what you do- you may need a moment- but eventually, you just have to do, what needs to be done.
No comments:
Post a Comment