The Postscript
Only after you've had a day like yesterday do you really know you married the right person.
The day started out fine. We were flying back from Mexico to the U.S. My husband, Peter, books all our flights, and he had arranged it so we did not have to
get up at 'the crack of stupid,' as he would say. Instead, the cab ar - rived in the late morning, so I had time for a last walk around the city before we said goodbye to the wonderful staff at the apartment hotel where we stay every year.
It was only as we were get- ting off the first plane in the U.S., headed toward our connecting flight, that I suspected something might be wrong. 'Felix smells!' I told Peter. Felix is our cat. He had made a small noise a few minutes be - fore landing, but I had thought nothing of it. Now it smelled as if something was badly amiss. I know you might be having your breakfast as you read this, so suf - fice to say, of the three types of potential messes an animal could make in a small container, this was the worst of the options.
'What do we do?' Peter asked.
Peter had never had a cat be -
fore Felix, and so he considers me the resident cat expert, but my previous cat ownership was of no use in this situation.
'Maybe we can hit a bath - room before the next flight.'
Unfortunately, the security line was very long, and as I slow - ly wound through the line, I was anticipating having to take this cat out of the carrier and walk through the screening. The mess was even worse than I feared.
'How long do we have?' I asked Peter when we finally got through security with our very smelly cat. 'Not long!' 'Do you think we can find a family bathroom?' We did. I will spare you the details -- but bathing a cat on a tight schedule is not something I would recommend if you have any choice in the matter. We ex - ited the bathroom with only min utes to spare.
'Look innocent!' Peter said as we walked out. He started to laugh as we raced through the terminal. 'If I ever had to dispose
of a body, you're the person I'd want to do it with,' he told me.
It was very late when we got
home, and I knew the first thing I had to do was shampoo a cat. Fe -
lix wasn't any happier about the situation than I was, but I think he knew we were on the same team.
And then, when you think it can't get any worse, it does.
'Why is the carpet wet?' Pe - ter yelled from the bedroom. I was in no position to investigate.
I was shampooing a cat. 'Oh, no,' I heard. And then, 'Oh, NO!'
A sprinkler pipe had broken in the bedroom wall. The floor flooded with water. The walls were soaked. The carpeting was ruined. There was nothing to do
but go to bed with our still-damp cat who now smelled of baby shampoo.
'Should we put on life pre- servers?' I asked Peter.
It was now nearly morning.
But before I fell asleep, what I remembered about this day was how much I had laughed. I had laughed because, as bad as it had been, nothing that had happened was truly terrible. I had laughed because I knew we would make it through. And I had laughed because I had a part - ner who could -- and would -- al ways laugh with me in the worst of times.
Till next time, Carrie
