This morning I was going to post a very carefully written and meticulously thought out post about achieving goals and… no, I’m totally lying.
I had nothing.
I’m kind of boring now that I’m not a mess. Life without emotional instability, drunken debauchery, or crises of any sort is actually quite nice but not terribly interesting. Like, what am I supposed to do, post pictures of my oatmeal? I don’t even eat oatmeal.
Apparently I’m running a little short on material. I was just going to post about that.
And then I met the devil.
It was probably friends with this cat.
Now, you must understand, I’ve always stood up for our little feline friends. I adore them. I had better considering how often I’m compared to a cat. I might have acquired the nickname ferocious kitty/ferocious fur ball/ferocious kitten (depending on the mood of the person making fun of me) somewhere along the line. There might also be a tendency amongst those closest to me to dangle small objects in front of me to see how long it takes me to bat it away.
Plus, I’m kind of bratty in a very cat like way.
I’ve never hated a cat in my life. Until Saturday.
My voice teacher has three cats. All of them are sweet little bundles of fluff that purr when you pet them and love me because I pet them more than their master does. Apparently one of them, though, is possessed by demons or is just plain evil.
As I was leaving my lesson on Saturday, I heard the meow of the sweet little demon kitty outside the studio door. The animals are allowed everywhere in her house except for the studio. That is strictly off limits to any and all nonhuman entities. I opened the door and tried to exit quickly, so as to not let the cat in, but it darted past me into the studio before I could open the door enough to even get out.
I grabbed for the cat and ended up getting it by the tail. I tried to get hold of the body of the cat so I didn’t hurt it but the little thing moved too quickly. It let out an angry MRRROWWWWW!!!! clearly letting me know that this was NOT okay with this situation. I let go and it darted under a coffee table.
I knelt down and in my sweetest reconciliatory voice told it that I was sorry. I extended my hand to pet it and it came out a little bit. Apparently realizing that I was going to try to displace it out of the studio, though, it backed under the table again.
As I coaxed it out one more time, I grabbed it as quickly as I could, at which point it started flailing its limbs like a two year old throwing a hissy fit. I hastily shut the studio door and set the little monster down.
It ran down the hall, hopped up on a bookshelf, looked at me with “you made me sooo sad” eyes, and meowed a little “love me” meow. I walked up and pet it a few times, wanting to make up for the tail pulling. It purred slightly and turned to make sure I petted it exactly where it wanted to be petted. Much like me, subtlety is not the strong point of cats.
It came full circle and suddenly, without any warning, swiped at me. I pulled my hand back quickly enough that it only caught my thumb but its claw caught it hard and deep. The cat immediately hopped up onto the stairs, climbed half way up, stopped, turned, and hissed at me.
This is a reenactment.
I stood in shock, not yet realizing that I was bleeding.
“You little fucker,” I said in disbelief.
The cat haughtily climbed to the top of the stairs, turned again, and gave one of its oh so sweet meows again. I started up the stairs as it harrumphed, gave me a death look, and waltzed away.
As I walked out the door I finally looked at my bleeding thumb. It didn’t stop bleeding for a half hour. If I start speaking in tongues today and/or come down with rabies, I’ll know who to blame.
I spilled half and half in my purse this morning and soaked everything in it. It then leaked out on my coat and slightly down the side of my pants. I’m pretty sure that this was the result of the feline incarnation of Satan putting some sort of curse on me. This does not bode well for me.