Difficult kittens and new lives

Well, I’m officially a resident of Whanganui now. I’m settled into my cousin’s house with my cat, and I start my new job on Monday. It’s hard to believe it’s actually happening.

The drive down was a nightmare.

The problem is this, you see. Tonka likes to be out of his cage in the car, BUT THREE TIMES NOW he has pooped in my car. This isn’t something I really want again, so I decided to keep him in his cage. At least, then, it would be contained.

Now, the last time I took him on a long car trip, I discovered I could let him out of the car for a walk without worrying about him running away. This is no longer the case. He starts exploring, and he doesn’t stop until he’s out of sight. I even lost him in one of those drain pipes that run underneath driveways.

The first place I let him out for a walk in, he behaved. Here he is, contemplating life. 

About halfway through the trip, Tonka started to pant like a dog. He does this occasionally when he’s tired or hot, and it always looks hilarious. I pulled over at another rest stop and tried to give him some water. The little monster wouldn’t drink it. I tried everything – pushing his face in it, putting it on the backs of his paws, squirting it into his mouth – nothing worked. He just wasn’t interested. I was becoming increasingly worried because his panting was starting to get heavier. Eventually I just squirted water all over his fur and turned the air conditioning towards his cage, hoping that would help cool him down at least. It seemed to do the trick, because he stopped panting after that, though he did start doing cartwheels in his cage trying to escape the air conditioning. For some reason, the wind is fine, but any machine-made breeze is witchcraft and must be avoided at all costs.

The rest of the journey was relatively uneventful, bar the four flocks of sheep we came across while driving through the Paraparas. Tonka was very alarmed at the incessant baa’s, because he could only hear, not see, them.

I’ve already let him out of the house. He’s perfectly happy to go explore and then come back inside. He also, apparently, has a fascination with my bedroom window. This is the second time so far I’ve caught him hanging out it like this.

Cats.

Unfortunate timing

I had a pretty ridiculous day yesterday.

I’d been visiting my dad in Auckland, and was on my way home to Tauranga. The weather was miserable, so I had my window wipers going. As I pulled into a rest stop along the Auckland motorway and drove up to a petrol pump, my front left windscreen wiper snapped off. Needless to say, I was sufficiently bewildered.

I got out of my car and picked the blade up off the ground. The connector holding it to the arm had simply broken. I have no idea why.

‘Oh well,’ I thought, ‘At least it’s only the passenger side. I’ll get it fixed when I get home.’

I carried on my merry way for a couple more hours. I’d passed through Waihi about 20 minutes ago when, with a clack and a clatter, the front right windscreen wiper snapped off too and dropped onto my bonnet. I stared at it in disbelief for a couple of seconds before I realised I now could not see out my windscreen. With a few muttered swear words, I quickly pulled over (I was lucky there was room).

Putting on my hazard lights, I clambered out of my car and into the rain (which was absolutely bucketing down at this point) to see if I could slip the blade back on. Nope, same problem as the other one – the connector was broken.

I climbed back into my car and fought back a few frustrated tears. What was I supposed to do? I was still 40 minutes away from Tauranga, and what could anybody do for me anyway? I called Mum and she suggested trying to tie the blade back on with something until I could get home. It was just my luck that I didn’t have anything to tie it with, bar a hairtie (which did not work, I tried). Mum suggested using a pair of underwear to tie it with. I was not keen on that.

By now I was thoroughly soaked from standing out in the rain trying to tie the blade back on with a hairtie while cars and trucks sped past, whipping up huge clouds of water. It was then I realised, after a quick look behind me, that there was a driveway only a few metres back.

Very carefully, and very slowly, I backed my car up so I could turn into the driveway, stopping every time another car went past. It was tricky work, considering all I could see out my windows was a vague blur of road, trees, and oncoming headlights. Eventually I managed it though, and quickly drove up the driveway, jumping out of my car to run to the front door.

I don’t know what the old lady who answered the door would have thought to see me standing there looking like a drowned rat, but she quickly ushered me inside out of the rain. After explaining my dilemma to her, she called out to her husband, who donned a raincoat and gumboots to come outside and help me. It was quickly apparent, however, that there was nothing he could do. Tying it back on, he said, was not going to work.

He told me I was only six kilometres from Kati Kati, and drew me a map to get to the workshop that could fix my wipers. I’d just have to drive very, very slowly, he said.

Then I was off, sitting hunched over my steering wheel trying to see through the water on my windscreen. It was a nightmare. I made it to the workshop though, and half an hour and $60 later, I had working windscreen wipers. The driver’s side one had a broken bolt, the man said, and had slowly been getting worn out. Today, of all days, was when it couldn’t take it anymore apparently. It was simply a horribly ironic coincidence that the passenger side wiper had snapped on the same day.

What a day to have just such a malfunction.

Stupid cars

UUUUGGGGGHHHHH.

What’s worse than car troubles? I’ll tell you what. Car troubles when you’re all alone in said car, with nobody to share in your humiliation and confusion, that’s what.

My flatmate is sick, so she hasn’t come to class today. No problem, I’d just go in on my own. It’s as if my car knew that she wasn’t there. That’s when it chose its moment to strike.

I’d just turned out of the student parking lot after my search for one of the coveted spots turned out to be fruitless. As I turned out, my car sort of just gave up. It was like I put my foot on the accelerator, but nothing happened. My poor little car simply rolled to a stop on a yellow dotted line, while other cars zipped past me.

I turned it off, then on again, then tried again. It rolled forward a little, then stalled.

Swearing, I turned on my hazard lights and let it sit for a minute. Revving it ridiculously high, I pulled out onto the road. In the 20 or so metres between that spot and the street where I wanted to park, my stupid car gave me grief like this about four times. I slowly crawled into a parking spot, sat in my car for a while feeling angry, then went to class. Maybe it’ll be normal when I go back to it at the end of the day.

It was really uncomfortable sitting there in this car on the side of the road, trying to make it work, and not having anybody with me to tell me what to do, or to share in my embarrassment.

Does anybody know what my problem could be?

I’M DESPERATE.

Under his nose

I did something stupid yesterday.

I was stopping off for a bathroom break in Taupo during my eight hour trip to Wellington, and I was sitting at the front of a right-turn lane at the traffic lights. A cop car was in the lane behind me.

When the light turned green, I happily zoomed out into the intersection, realising halfway through my turn that it was one of those traffic lights where you have to wait for the oncoming cars to pass before you go. I realised this as I pulled in front of a line of traffic.

Several swear words were hastily uttered, and I pulled into a park, waiting for the inevitable flashing lights of the cop car. Instead, he just drove straight by. I can only assume that was A. not looking, or B. he understood that I’d made a mistake on the lights. Maybe it happens a lot there. Either way, I was glad there were no repercussions.

An eight hour road trip with a grumpy kitten

Yesterday I made the exhausting trip from Hamilton all the way to Wellington with my kitten, Tonka. What Google maps deceptively informed me was a six hour drive ended up taking eight hours. Granted, I made a lot of stops, and it seemed like I was constantly stopping to get petrol with money that I didn’t have.

Tonka wasn’t actually as grumpy as my title suggests. In fact, after the first twenty minutes of meowing and biting the bars of his cage and sticking his paws out, he was a complete angel. He simply lay down and went to sleep. For eight hours. Cats, am I right?

My first stop was at Tokoroa, where I picked up a chicken roll and an apple tart from a bakery, then drove to a scenic lookout to eat and let Tonka out for a walk. My friend had lent me her rabbit harness, so I used it to walk him around without him escaping. He didn’t like it one bit. When I tied the lead to a pole so I could get something from the car, I turned around to find that he’d twisted and turned and pulled hard enough to slip out of the harness. I froze, watching as he sat there on his hind legs, obviously a little surprised that he’d gotten free. I then had a dilemma – I couldn’t run to grab him, otherwise he’d be off like a shot, but if I approached slowly he’d just wander away.

As it turned out, Tonka didn’t have any interest in straying very far, and whenever I walked away from him he’d turn to follow, because he didn’t want me to leave him behind. I don’t know how I found myself a cat that hangs around when you let him out of the car, but I was lucky.

Tonka and I continued on our trip, until I stopped somewhere past Taupo. I pulled into a rest area and carried Tonka down to the lake shore and put him down. I’d decided that I was relatively safe letting him out without the harness, considering that all the time spent with the harness on was time spent furiously trying to bite it off his back. He sat very still watching the water. I don’t think he really knew what it was. I threw a few stones into the water and his tail fluffed up.

The last stop I made with Tonka was along the desert road, when I started seeing large patches of snow all along the sides. It’s the first time I’ve seen snow since I was young, so it was exciting for me. I pulled over and put Tonka down on a patch of it, to see what he’d do. He didn’t like it very much, and we went back to the car pretty quickly.

As I reached the second half of my drive I passed a road sign that said “Share the driving. Drive fresh.” I looked at my passenger as he lay curled up asleep in his cat cage, and thought that perhaps that was an unrealistic expectation. There would be no sharing of the driving today.

Tonka sat up in his cage and started meowing when we were only three minutes away from our destination. I wondered why he couldn’t have just waited until we got there to start kicking up a fuss.

Either way, it went surprisingly well, even if it was a bit long.

Learn to park

Yesterday I pulled into a carpark space at the supermarket and immediately suffered through an awkward moment when the owner of the car beside me returned and had to squeeze into his driver’s seat because we were too close together. There was a lot of apologetic eye contact on my part.

However, once he left and I opened my door to check if I was within the lines, I realised that I was parked absolutely perfectly, smack bang in the middle of my space.

I now feel no remorse.

In the dead of the night

I woke up at three o’clock this morning to get ready for TV3. I’m pleased to say that for the first day this week I managed to successfully beat the Auckland traffic. However, there hasn’t been one day this week that I haven’t gotten lost. Today was no exception.

Dad had told me to take a different road into town, because he was worried there could be ice on the road, and it would be better for me to get on the main road sooner. As I should have expected, I got hopelessly lost and ended up somewhere out by Muriwai beach, slowly driving down a dark, winding road while the trees on either side swayed ominously in the stormy weather.

‘This is it,’ I thought to myself. ‘I’m entering the plot of a horror movie.’

If my car had broken down and hillbilly mutants had appeared out of the shadows, I wouldn’t have been overly surprised.

I somehow found my way back, saw the road sign that I’d missed earlier that pointed me towards Auckland city, and I was off on my merry way again, happy that the feeling of impending doom was diminishing.

There’s something particularly eerie about driving a country road at nighttime, when the moon is peeking at you from behind a cluster of heavy looking clouds. There’s not another soul in sight – but occasionally you’ll spot the taillights of another car and wonder what they’re doing roaming the back roads of Waimauku at half past three in the morning. Maybe it’s that feeling of being completely alone that got me.

The rest of the morning was pretty uneventful, and I had a chocolate biscuit. I’m now back in Hamilton, feeling happy to be back home, despite all the fun I had this week.

Boy, am I looking forward to a sleep in tomorrow.

Breaking the law

The other day I was driving somewhere when my phone started ringing. I glanced over and saw that the number was unknown, so I wouldn’t be able to call them back after I stopped.

I’d come up to a red light so I thought maybe I could answer it quickly before the light went green. Just my luck, the moment I answered the traffic started to move.

“Hello, Melissa speaking,” I said, awkwardly trying to hold my phone and change gears at the same time.

“Hello Melissa, this is the Hamilton Police. Are you able to talk right now?”

“Uh . . . I’m driving, but my friend is holding my phone on speaker for me,” I lied.

So here I was, driving along while talking illegally on my cellphone, to a cop. I found a driveway to pull into and stopped.

“I understand you sat your full license test the other day?” He said.

“Yes,” I replied, confused.

And then he said something along the lines of “Your boyfriend’s father thinks that’s really great.”

It took a moment for it to sink in, and then I realised that Sam’s dad, who is, oddly enough, a police officer, was pulling a prank on me. After laughing and thanking him, I hung up the phone and let my heartbeat slow down a little bit.

“You bastard,” I muttered affectionately.

Women, hazards, and awkward confidences

I sat my full license test today.

Half the morning was spent trying to calm whatever was jumping about in my stomach – they say butterflies, but it sure as hell didn’t feel like butterflies. I’d guess ferrets.

I got to the place I’d be meeting the tester, but I was a little early, so I went for a leisurely stroll around the field, and came across a very friendly dog. He was one of those dogs that you try to pat, but he’s too busy jumping around in excitement and trying to slobber all over you that you can’t really manage it.

I met my tester, an older guy with white hair and a deep voice, and we set off on our merry way. He broke the ice with a sexist joke, then informed me that it’s all part of the test.

The test was spent talking about boring jobs like market research and license testing, and he told me all about how someone once tried to break into his house. Ah, rapport.

When we got back to the centre, he informed me, as he tallied up my score, that his sons told him they never want to be like him. That was mildly awkward. Next thing I know, he’s saying “Hey presto, you passed.”

I PASSED I PASSED I PASSED.

And then with a firm handshake, he was off.

What an interesting man.

Hushed ramblings

I realised that I have this habit of quietly muttering away under my breath when I’m in my car.

“Should’ve taken that gap,” I say almost inaudibly as I wait patiently at an intersection. “That’s not the best idea, buddy,” I mumble, as a car pulls out in front of me.

Sometimes my mutterings are louder.

“IT’S 100KM YOU IDIOT! WHY DO YOU FEEL THE NEED TO GO 80?”

My point is, I spend a lot of time in my car either talking to myself or verbally abusing other drivers. Once, I forgot to take my ipod on a trip to Tauranga with me, so I sang made-up songs the whole way there.

Guess I’m not one for quiet.