When an Acura meets an Acura

This is what happens when an Acura MDX (big ole SUV) hits an Acura Integra (lil ole me). Passers by yelled many lovely things at the guy who hit me as we held up rush hour traffic on the Harlem River Drive.  I just hoped we had made the traffic report on 1010WINS.

Thankfully it was stop and go traffic and we were barely moving. Otherwise, he might have plowed right over me.  

It took almost an hour to get everything straightened out. Initially the cop pulled up, told us to get off at the next exit, and then disappeared. After standing on a street somewhere for about 15 minutes, I had to call 911 again. The dispatcher was REALLY pissed that I was calling again, and insisted that the officer had already responded. I responded that I would not still be standing there waiting for an officer if that were the case. Another cop pulled off the highway, turned right in front of us (we were both waving to him) pulled a u-turn and drove away. FINALLY a cop arrived, and it turned out to be the cop who had initially disappeared.  He had been escorting a car up to the George Washington Bridge and couldn't stop.  He told us that he called the precinct to send backup. I would guess that backup was the cop who drove straight by us, because he eventually came back, turned on his siren to try to get me to move, realized that cop #1 was taking our information, turned his siren off and drove away.

But the officer and the guy who hit me were both nice. No one was hurt, and he was insured, so it could certainly be worse.  Although my car might disagree on that point.

Call the ASPCA

I'm an abusive pet owner without meaning to be.  Lando, the stray we adopted about six weeks ago, is permanently attached to me.  And sometimes I forget that he's there, especially when he's lurking silently by my feet.  

I keep accidently stepping on him and shoving him as I walk away.  Which clearly doesn't phase him, as he continues to follow me everywhere, including the bathroom, where he stands on the sink while I go about my routine.  Even though it doesn't bother him, I feel terrible about it.  

I keep telling myself to be more careful and more aware, but let's face it.  I'm not what one would call graceful.  I can barely keep myself upright, much less be aware of the cat lurking by my feet.  Then again, he's been letting me do this for weeks.  Maybe he's a kitty masochist and he secretly enjoys it.  I think I'll go with that for now.

The best bit...

We're locked in a rodent-related battle with our landlord, so A took crime scene photos of the mouse corpse. At the time, it seemed so logical, but now it makes me giggle.

They're not as cute as Mickey

Before I got married, I lived with my dad, in the house where I grew up.  I had Leo for about two and a half years while living there.  And in that time, Leo proved his worth to my somewhat cat-skeptical father by ridding the house of mice. 

I know it sounds gross, and you probably think that we live in filth, but it's just not so.  The house sits next to a large wooded area, and when it gets cold, the mice come into the house because it's warm.  The fact that there's food everywhere doesn't hurt either.  My father despises mice.  And to put this in context, I've watched the man squash palm-sized spiders with his bare hand.  He fears very few things, but he cannot stand mice.  

I adopted Leo from the shelter at animal control.  My now husband had adopted a cat there about seven months earlier.  I, a self-proclaimed dog person, couldn't understand the appeal.   But that cat, Linus, grew on me, and eventually I went for one of my own.  Leo is Linus's brother.  They were found hiding together in a bush.  Seven months after A brought home Linus, Leo leapt up on a cat condo at the shelter, batted at my hand, and I took him home.  

Leo is, per my father, "a big cat."  And this is true.  He's also a giant mush, and asthmatic to boot.  And once he got accustomed to his new living quarters, he started spending a lot of time stalking the living and dining rooms.  That's when the tiny little corpses started to pile up. 

The first time he caught a mouse, I didn't even realize what had happened.  He's a spoiled cat, and I've given him a million mouse toys.  So when he started playing with what I thought was one of those toys, I called my sister in to witness the cuteness.  Only when the "toy" hit the floor did i start realizing that something was wrong.  And that's when I started yelling, "REAL MOUSE!  REAL MOUSE!"  

It was the first of many.  All of this leading to now.  We've lived in the same apartment for three years.  On many occasions, my landlord has asked if we've seen any mice.  I've confidently replied, "If there were mice, we'd know."  

This morning, I awoke to find Leo guarding what I'm sure he hopes is the first of many.