Unexpected Craigslist Evening

For the last few weekends, I’ve been cleaning out my closets, piling things to sell or give away. This weekend, I finally took photos and started posting things on Craigslist.

The first thing I sold was the cat tower. I’d bought it a little over a year ago. I finally found one on sale so that it was less than two hundred dollars for some particle board and carpet. I felt guilty that I’d waited so long to buy the one thing my cats were guaranteed to love.

I put down Myrtle’s top and threw it in. I was so excited that my cats now might be able to climb it and see over the railing to watch the birds and squirrels in the trees. I put it in a sunny spot in the dining room and sprinkled catnip on it.

Nothing. They scratched at the bottom post but didn’t climb. I picked them up and placed them individually on the first landing. They sat for a moment then timidly jumped off.

I wondered what was wrong with them. I thought at first they were just lazy. Then I started to watch them, and analyze their walking. That is when I first realized Pablo had a problem.

Pablo had a hard time getting going when he’d start walking. He was shaky and deliberate. I took him to the vets and he got an X-ray. He didn’t even need to be sedated. He laid upside down, paws outstretched in the little cat-ray tube. The vet remarked at how clear the images were when she showed them to me. Then she pointed out the unclear parts. The murky haze where his joints should be.

Arthritis. Pretty severe arthritis.

That is when his pills started. Glucosamine mixed with his food, which also meant Mitsy and Perl both got a little too. I figure that wouldn’t hurt them.

That explained why Pablo wasn’t jumping any more. Mitsy wasn’t wobbly, she just didn’t seem interested. She also stopped sleeping on the bed and stopped siting on the couch. I tried making things for her to jump on to get on the bed, but she wasn’t interested. I thought it was just a choice.

Realizing I felt guilty about not getting the cat tree when they could still jump, I went out and bought a short carpeted staircase and placed it next to my bed. Mitsy immediately ran up it and laid on the pillow next to mine and started purring. I’d bought her a nice kitty bed and put it under the telephone desk in front of the window. She slept there constantly, but always looked so sad. I hadn’t realized how depressed she’d been that she couldn’t jump on the bed. It would be another couple months before her diagnosis of congestive heart failure.

So the cat tree has been on my list of things to sell. Some other cats should enjoy it. I found a buyer and loaded it into Myrtle the same way I’d brought it home. I met the young couple at the train station yesterday. It took a while to figure out how to get it in their car. I let them negotiate ten dollars off the price and sold it for seventy. Then I went to the Palace Cafe for a salad before my train ride to the city for an afternoon date.

I’ll skip the date part because it is bad form to talk about dates. Like talking about job interviews, you never know who will read it.

Back at home, last weekend I decided to remove all of Pablo’s hiding spots. I’ve given him lots of places to run off to over the years, but with his twice daily insulin injections, it is a real pain when he slips off to one of his little holes before I can give him his shot. The other reason is that as they get older, there is more likelihood of an accident happening and it is hard to clean those spots.

Part of removing hiding spaces was taking the metal frame out from under my bed and putting the box spring on the floor. No more hiding under the bed. Also, no more wondering why the dog is struggling to get out from under the bed. Perl is getting older too and eventually will also have a hard time jumping on things. So, it is preemptive.

The bed frame got a few hits, but I’ve had a hard time getting people to respond after they’ve emailed me. I posted a few other cat things that haven’t gotten a hit and one free item that was gone within minutes of posting. It was my old wine fridge that stopped working. With all the engineers in the area, I wrote, “Free to a good home. If you can fix it, you can have it.” I told the guy who responded where it was and he could pick it up.

The item that I was most unsure about being able to sell I titled, “Sexy Red Shoes.” They are size seven, faux snake skin, four-inch heels from White House | Black Market. I had so much hope for them. But they were really half a size too small and I didn’t want to admit it. After breaking my foot, I’ll never get back in them. I’d worn them once out, but they deserve better than that. So I’m trying to find them a new home. Someone who will get them out and about.

I didn’t expect anyone to respond, but someone did a day later. We made plans to meet up tonight at Starbucks on Shoreline.

I managed to walk the dog and feed the cat early, so I arrived half an hour too early. And I was hungry. I saw a truck with pizza on the sign and started looking for the pizza shop. It was a restaurant two doors down from Starbucks. It was pretty empty. I sat at the bar, ordered a pizza and a glass of wine and texted the girl to let her know where I was if she showed up early.

She laughed when she arrived because she had actually planned on stopping by the restaurant after meeting me at Starbucks. She was adorable and little and looked like she was under 18, but actually was old enough to be married, have a kid and work at Google. She didn’t want to try on the shoes inside, so she gave me the money to hold onto and went outside to try them on.

She came back in wearing them. She loved them just like I do. But for her, they were half a size too big. We talked some more, then she went back out to change and brought the sexy, red shoes back. I gave her back her money.

Then we had dinner.

No, I don’t usually eat dinner with people I’ve just met on Craigslist, but she was there to try something for a friend. There was some story about it and it included gluten-free something, but I have to admit, she was very soft spoken and I didn’t want to keep asking her to repeat herself.

We talked and ate. At some point she mentioned she was from Dallas. I told her about the time I went there for a friend’s wedding and ended up in the gay district doing Jell-O shots a six pm. She, like most Texans, seemed surprised Dallas has a gay district. It might have just been a block or two. Maybe not a whole district.

She asked where the wedding was.

“Somewhere outside of Dallas,” I said.

She named a place.

“No, it began with an ‘L’ I think.”

“Lewisville?”

“That sounds familiar. I think it was northwest of Dallas.”

“That is where I’m from,” she said.

“Do you know CivilSarah?”

“There are a lot of Sarahs.”

“Yeah, but this one is civil, unlike the rest. I can’t remember if she was from there or they were just getting married there.”

We finished dinner and slightly awkwardly went our separate ways, as often happens after trying to sell a pair of sexy, red shoes and having dinner instead.

Turns out my friends weren’t married there, but did live there. I’m still trying to figure out if these people who have lived in Lewisville, TX might somehow know each other. That would just make the story so much better.

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3 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by natnat on September 10, 2012 at 10:31 pm

    I bet you mean Lewisville, TX. They’re big on sexy shoes there.

    Reply

  2. I don’t know the gal (DD mentioned her name last night), but glad to hear that I am living up to my name! :)

    Reply

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