Ring My Be-ee-ell, Ring my Bell!

        It was either title this Ring My Bell, or Good Ideas Gone Bad, but I have a feeling the latter might be needed for further posts.  So, under the auspices of good ideas gone bad, I have a cat.  Said cat adopted me, just showed up one day at the door and waltzed in when I was calling for my other cat, that is, the first one, Chloe.  This big, rangy grey gentleman with a white throat and white paws, is a dead ringer for Thomas O'Malley, the alley cat from the animated movie, Aristocats, except, of course, he is grey.  After he polished off both of Chloe's food dishes, he proceeded to waltz into my bedroom, hopped up on the bed, and fell asleep.  Hmmm.  What to do???  Obviously, he belonged to someone, as he was really friendly, and not the least afraid, so I picked up the big lug, and dumped him outside on the front steps and told him to go home.  "Shoo," I said, fervently.  Nothing happened.  He looked up at me like I'd lost my mind.  Apparently I didn't realize he was here to stay, and clearly I was not grasping this concept yet.  Not to be outdone by a small mammal, I closed the door.  There.  Problem solved.  I watch TV.  I wait an hour.  I go check the door.  Yup.  Cat is still sitting there looking up at me with green eyes.  Hasn't moved.  Doesn't blink.  Just stares.
        "Meow."
       "Go home," I tell kitty.  Kitty doesn't listen.  We stare at each other.
       "Go on, shoo."  Nothing happens.  I close the door and pretend kitty has gone home. This works almost as well.  Create your own reality, I say.  I check the door an hour later.  Yup.  Kitty is still there.  Okay.  This also works for me - deny reality.  It doesn't exist if you deny it it's existence.  I can't stand it.  I watch TV.  I flip channels.  Third coping mechanism.  Distract yourself.  Eventually your problems will go away, or, if you are like me, you'll forget them.  I do this regularly.  I check later.   I can't see kitty anymore through the metal door.  Perfect.
         Let us now skip to nighttime.  Kitty is back.  This time, outside the living room window.  I can hear kitty meowing.  This is really annoying.  I turn up the TV set.  Ignore problem.  (See third coping mechanism).  Problem solved.  I go to bed.  Next morning I wake up to a very pissed off pussy.  Chloe, my little black and white tuxedo cat is glaring at a grey lump on the bed.  Apparently I've acquired a new foot warmer.  How did this happen, I ask myself, and why are there flies all over the place?  I ponder these two curious things as I get up to make myself coffee.  At this point I notice the screen covering the living room window.  It's on the floor.  How, I wonder, did the screen get on the floor?  I look at grey mass on bed.  Surely not, I think.  It's a good five to six feet from the ground to the window.  Kitty looks up with sleepy eyes.
       "I know you have a home.  People are missing you.  You have to go home."  I get a slow blink back at me.  I sigh, and pick up kitty and head towards the door and shoo him out.  Chloe looks very satisfied.  She hates grey lumps.  I put back the screen.  There are claw marks all over it.  More flies fly in.  Hmm.   What to do?  Yup, try second coping mechanism.  And re-fill Chloe's food dish.  Both bowls are somehow empty again.  How did that happen?  We are going through a lot of food these days, I tell Chloe, shaking my head, as I make sure the living room windows are closed.  There.  That will fix the problem.  Not like a grey lump can outsmart moi.
      Next night I go to bed.  There is now meowing occurring constantly repeating, over and over, and over, and over, and over and over outside the bedroom window.  I put the pillow over my head.  I will not respond, I tell myself desperately.  This is not Patrick Swayze singing, "I'm 'enry the Eighth, I am, I am," over and over from Ghost driving Whoopie Goldberg nuts, but the effect is similar.  "I'm going to kill that cat," I tell Chloe as I go unlock the front door and let him in.  Right.
     "Don't think you've won," I tell him.
     "Meow," he says.
     I put flyers up and call all the vets and the SPCA.  "Surely somebody is missing him," I tell Chloe as I sweep up shards from the plant pot she's pushed off the counter onto the floor, and refill the food dishes.
     "Meow," says Maug.  Yes, we've named him.  Bloody hell.   Apparently this is how you accumulate cats these days.

      So, jumping ahead to the bells.  This summer we got a screen door.  Finally.  It was really hot outside and we needed some cross wind, a breeze that the screen door provided.  I specifically picked out a screen door that opened at the top, knowing Maug's predilection for clawing screens.  What I hadn't accounted for, was that now we could hear Maug meowing all the time.  Before, the metal door blocked the sound, or at least muffled it greatly. I would check every hour whether he wanted in or not, and he seemed content to wait.  Actually, he just really didn't have a choice.  Unless, of course, I left the living room windows open, in which case, he would jump up and either push the screen out, or claw his way through.  The flies?  We've learned to live with them, and keep a fly swatter handy.  It's important to adapt to new situations.  You know, move with the times.  Now with the screen door window closed as fall approaches and the temperature goes down, we can no longer hear Maug.  Except for the thunk, as he takes a flying leap at the screen door, literally hanging from it, his breath fogging up the glass.  Hmm.  Since the bottom of the screen now looks like shredded cheese and he's working his way higher, I needed another solution before he reached the top.  And then I had a great idea!  I had a bunch of Christmas bells that hang on a door knob, so I took those and hung them outside, the idea being that Maug would "ring" these bells when he wanted in.  What I hadn't counted on what the frequency with which he would ring them, and the amount of bloody noise these things make.  And again, I am jumping up every five minutes or so, if that, to let in the fickle feline.  I want in, no, out, no, in, no, out, no, I don't know....maybe I'll just stand in the doorway while I make up my mind and your toes freeze, he seems to be thinking.  "Ring, ring, ring," In.  "Me-e-e-owwww".  Out.  "Ring, ring, ring," In.  "Me-e-e-owww". Out.  "Ring my be-ee-ell, ring my bell!"

Introduction

Hmmmmm.  Having never blogged before this should be interesting.  So, what's with the title?  I have heard my life described by others as a daily debacle, and thought, why not?  What a great title!  And so apt!  Hopefully this will include daily stories, incidents, poetry, artwork, doodles, observations and great things and such like that.  Also, it is a great place for me to vent....since I do so much of it.  And, I find myself so interesting, others must too, right?  I mean, right???  I knew you'd agree.