Journal of a Sabbatical

October 20, 1999

kittens bite

Today's Reading: none

Just before I came upstairs to write today's entry, Wilbur rolled himself up in the sunshade from the bag of stuff I salvaged from my old car. He showed no interest in the snow brush or my rain poncho, but he loves that sunshade. I went through all the junk that the thieves didn't get and repeatedly vowed never to leave so much as an empty paper coffee cup in my car ever again. I was hoping to maybe find the registration, to make it a little easier to transfer it, but no luck. A quick call to the insurance agent and one to the car dealer reveals that I don't need the registration in order to transfer it. Guess I don't need the warranty for the old binoculars anymore either. What a fun rainy day project!

If there was any doubt in my mind that my adult daily living skills are deteriorating, today's trip to the bank banished it. All I wanted was a bank check for the price of the new car. How hard can that be?

The first window I went to was open. There was a teller behind it. She didn't have any sign up that said Next Window or anything. She looked at me like I had committed some horrible breach of etiquette. I looked around. There were no other customers in the bank, so I hadn't jumped the line or anything. She just waved me over to the end of the row of windows with a a brusque "She'll take you over there."

The second teller "over there" had a Next Window Please sign up, but said "May I help you?" anyway. I filled out the forms, ran my ATM card through the little card reader, and waited. A line began to form behind me. The teller looked confused and stricken as she stared at her computer screen. Then she vanished. Women in line behind me began to pace and fidget. I stood there smiling like a demented person thinking of my new car. The teller returned with a supervisor, who looked at the screen.

Supervisor: "Did she deposit a check recently?"
Teller: "Did you deposit a check recently?"
Me: "Yes"
Teller: "When?"
Me: "Yesterday."
Teller: "A large check?"
Me: "Yes?" growing increasingly alarmed
Teller: "At an ATM?"
Me: "Yeah."
Teller: "The ATM takes longer. You should have brought the check here if it's a large check."
Supervisor (finally): "You only have $xxxx in your account."
Me (crestfallen): "Oh. Will the deposit have cleared by tomorrow?"
Teller: "Call the 800 number tomorrow."

OK, I knew the money I deposited from selling the stock was necessary to buy the car. That's why I deposited it yesterday. So it's not like I was trying to rob the bank by requesting a bank check in an amount I knew I didn't have. I left the bank deflated, embarrassed, and depressed, and called the dealer to say I'd come tomorrow with the money - assuming the money appears in my checking account by then. But I have one question: Why couldn't the teller have just told me the check I deposited hadn't cleared yet? Why did we have to play 20 questions?

Well, I wasn't going to go birding in the pouring rain anyway, so I guess rushing home to go to the bank didn't deprive me of much besides the opportunity to buy used books this afternoon. Like I could afford used books anyway. I might have lingered a little longer listening to Jaguar purr. He's looking better and still active patrolling the shelter. I did spend quality time with him before and after I did the photos of new cats.

Arnold is finally well enough to look good in a photo, so I did him first. There's a bunch of kittens, two of whom (Rudy and Popeye) were returned by their adopters because the husband turned out to be allergic to cats. I swear cat allergy is increasing. The incidence of asthma is increasing, and is particularly high in the Merrimack Valley. The experts who are supposed to prove that the unusually high rate of asthma in North Andover and Lawrence is caused by the incinerator - um, the trash to energy plant - and the experts who are supposed to prove the incinerator has nothing to do with it, all mention "other factors" like "urban living conditions" and cat dander. So the incinerator is good for us? Gee, I'm wound up today. Rudy and Popeye will have new homes in no time.

The humans who work here are all sneezing today. Can we all have developed cat allergies overnight? Roy is still out sick with a bad cold or the flu. A new volunteer, Brit, who is very quiet - hardly talks at all - is drying the litter boxes as I wash them. I'm doing litter boxes first because we were already out of clean ones before I came in. Where do they go? Do the cats eat them? Do people steal them? Do we have a whole 'nother secret room with an extra 45 cats in it? Who knows?

Casper cowers in the back of his cage when Bob opens the door to clean it. Later on, when I take his picture he head-butts me and rubs against my hand. He's a big cat with a wonderful face - very expressive. He's clearly an adult. I don't know how old. After his initial skittishness he seems pretty friendly. How could somebody just abandon him? Sometimes the way people treat cats mystifies me.

A woman came in carrying a kitten under her coat. She just started jabbering away at Brit about how the kitten bites and she has to get rid of it right away. Um, kittens bite. From her description it sounded like this was some huge predatory monster, but it's just a little kitten. I go ask Kendra, who's in the sick room, to come deal with this lady. Chris or is it Bonnie takes over and whisks woman and kitten into the office. Sometimes I think that when people get a kitten for their kids they act like it's a toy instead of a live animal. Kittens bite and scratch. Not good for a little kid's toy, but perfectly normal behavior for a kitten.

At some point Bob slipped out and we figured he'd gone home. We're all surprised when he returns with a stack of brand new litter boxes and food dishes. Yay, Bob!