Fully clawed
My family always had at least one cat around the house as I grew up. And while they were fussed over and loved by all, they all had the same favorite: my mom. Perhaps it was because she was the one who fed them; maybe it was because she abstained from putting makeup on them. Who knows.
At any rate, as time goes by, the attrition rate has increased to the point where there's one cat standing. And while I joke about my cat Scratchel being kind of an asshole, this one - let's call him Ditzy - takes the cake. Of course, Ditzy is semi-feral, so maybe nature's more to blame for this one.
Ditzy will not let anyone pet him besides my mom. Smart cat, sucking up to the one person in the house who makes the major decisions. Since she's been sick, his care became yet another one of my dad's new responsibilities, and like most of them, he's been a thankless and tedious task.
I arrived at LAX Saturday night and was shown a fresh scratch on my dad's hand that he'd gotten while giving the cat treats. I winced at it, but thought, you know, Dad's in his 70s, I'm sure he just wasn't moving that quickly.
Ha. Ha.
Yesterday, I walked past a bedroom and saw Ditzy sleeping peacefully on the bed. I started crooning to him, as he is a beautiful grey silky cat, and he started kneading his claws the way cats do when they're very happy. So I decided to try my luck and pet his ears. He drew back, and I figured I'd stop while I was ahead. On the way out, I put a few treats down for him and because he didn't look like he'd seen them (cats have poor close-up vision), I tapped the bed to demonstrate there was something there. Big mistake. He made short work of my hand. It looks like someone took a sewing machine to it - I've never seen such a straight line of striations. He's not getting any more treats from me. Today, at least. Maybe tomorrow it'll turn out better.
**********
BTW: Day three of working while hunched over my parents' china hutch. Seems to be coming along okay, but I think I'll need a massage when I get back to SA.
At any rate, as time goes by, the attrition rate has increased to the point where there's one cat standing. And while I joke about my cat Scratchel being kind of an asshole, this one - let's call him Ditzy - takes the cake. Of course, Ditzy is semi-feral, so maybe nature's more to blame for this one.
Ditzy will not let anyone pet him besides my mom. Smart cat, sucking up to the one person in the house who makes the major decisions. Since she's been sick, his care became yet another one of my dad's new responsibilities, and like most of them, he's been a thankless and tedious task.
I arrived at LAX Saturday night and was shown a fresh scratch on my dad's hand that he'd gotten while giving the cat treats. I winced at it, but thought, you know, Dad's in his 70s, I'm sure he just wasn't moving that quickly.
Ha. Ha.
Yesterday, I walked past a bedroom and saw Ditzy sleeping peacefully on the bed. I started crooning to him, as he is a beautiful grey silky cat, and he started kneading his claws the way cats do when they're very happy. So I decided to try my luck and pet his ears. He drew back, and I figured I'd stop while I was ahead. On the way out, I put a few treats down for him and because he didn't look like he'd seen them (cats have poor close-up vision), I tapped the bed to demonstrate there was something there. Big mistake. He made short work of my hand. It looks like someone took a sewing machine to it - I've never seen such a straight line of striations. He's not getting any more treats from me. Today, at least. Maybe tomorrow it'll turn out better.
**********
BTW: Day three of working while hunched over my parents' china hutch. Seems to be coming along okay, but I think I'll need a massage when I get back to SA.
posted by Her Ladyship @ 11:08 AM
1 Comments:
At 3:07 PM,
Anonymous said…
Well what do you expect from a disease ridden rodent?
:p
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