My NDN (Next Door Neighbor) found this little plaque and SG’d (Surprise Gifted) me with it. It now occupies the eye-level shelf on my desk. So I won’t forget. As if I could take Cat for granted. As I type today’s blog, the swelling in my finger is finally coming down a bit. And the blood under the skin appears to finally be dispersing. And the tiny dot marking ground zero where Cat claw landed is becoming less noticeable.
NDN makes periodic remarks in reference to at least 2-3 Cat scratches per arm per week average. She gloats because she owns a dog. Cute puppy that doesn’t bite/scratch/bat shit yowl at the night time sky. But her puppy doesn’t purr. NDN doesn’t realize that Cat is not constantly attacking me. He just has oversized claws. And because he is a Bengal cat it is illegal to declaw him. I wouldn’t any way. Cuz things are not more important than a fur friend that loves you in spite of all your faults.
Like this afternoon when I accidentally dropped a quarter roll and scored a direct hit in the middle of Cat’s back. Yes, I felt like a monster. Yes, he got whatever he wanted to eat for lunch. No, I wasn’t trying to get evensies for the claw in my finger.
The sweet little lady at the Veterinarian’s office, who trims animal claws and assured me she could easily give the leopard a claw trim, came running out of the room after claw one with sweet pleasant speech replaced by something resembling nearly legible cursing. I guess I had forgotten to mention to her that Cat’s last visit, in which he needed to have some blood drawn, required 5 (five, cinco, 五) vet assistants to try and hold Cat down. They failed and finally had to tranq him.
Grandson is the only one for whom Cat will sit still and allow his claws to be guillotined. And Grandson is in the Pacific Northwest on vacation from his truck driving job. Just in time for orange skies and smoke without the campfire. My hair is quickly converting to gray.
I also didn’t mention to NDN the quarter roll incident, nor a few days prior when I accidentally stepped on Cat’s paw, nor the tail incident. Better you don’t know: plausible deniability. In case Grandson asks. In all fairness however Cat persists in walking between my legs when I have an armful of chores limiting my downward vision. I did catch him yowling once when my foot came near his paw. He only got away with that one twice.
In all fairness, wherever I curl up for a nap or night, when I wake up Cat is entangled in my legs, holding my feet and ankles down. Pinning me with the blanket. You would be surprised how heavy a 16 pound cat can be when strategically placed across your ankles. The numerous claw entry points on my legs is the logic for sleeping with at least two thick blankets/coverlets even on the hottest days.
In the overall picture, Cat has saved me two times and we saved his life once. But that was two of us saving him so that kinda equals the equation. He has his cranky/bully days where he tries to sucker me into two or three lunches, ten minutes apart. I have my DumbAsAStick days when I accidentally lock him in the pantry or the bedroom closet.
Relationships are like that. What fun would it be if we just had gushy love day after day?
Have you hugged your fur lover today?