When Cats Attack

12 Apr

I missed posting yesterday. The world seemed to spin on without a blog from me, but I’m back today anyway. The world will spin on either way, but I am a bit off kilter myself.

Saturday was a day when best laid plans went awry and I flexed to that.  Then, while I was peacefully (and unsuspectingly) enjoying the latter part of my afternoon sitting on my porch surfing the Internet, my partner summons me to assist him. It seems he is flea dipping a cat. A very ornery cat. He needs me to help him get her into a cat carrier so she doesn’t run and hide now that she is dripping wet.

That cat was going nuts. She was literally climbing the tile wall of the bathroom. This whole “getting wet” thing was not for her.

When it comes to cats, I have been around the block a time or two. I know they don’t like getting wet but, truly, most of the time when they get wet, they go limp. They become pliant. Not this little spitfire.

Between the two of us, we managed to get her into the cat carrier. But not before the little hellion chomped down on my left hand.

Between you and me, cat bites hurt like a mo-fo.

There was  blood and, yes, there may have been some swearing on my part. First aid and pain killers followed. Fortunately, I slept like a baby.

I had a very lazy Sunday. The hand still  smarted, but I could still type and write and use a fork, so I was doing OK.

Monday I went to work. My co-worker and my boss found my hand a little, um, “concerning.” (Is that a word?)

I decided to Google “cat bite” and see what the wise sage, The Internet recommended. Soon thereafter, I told my boss I’d be leaving early to go to the doctor. Which I did.

Everyone at the doctor’s office acted like I should have come sooner. Like they were open on Saturday night or all day Sunday or something. The doctor put me on two different antibiotics, told me to soak it and to come back in three days if it doesn’t get better or if it gets worse.

Apparently the only thing worse than a cat bite is a human bite. Or maybe a cobra.

In my most morbid thoughts (and I’ve had a couple over the past 48 hours), I considered the bitter, bitter irony of dying from a cat bite. After all the cats and dogs that have come through my life, to be taken out by a cat is well, like I said, bitterly ironic. Plus, the little wench who did this to me is curled up on my bed as I type. Cozy after the breakfast that I just fed her. As if to say, “Oh yeah–I bite the hand that feeds. I’m bad!”

Hopefully I won’t die from this. Hopefully I will recover full use of my left hand (my favorite hand since I’m left handed) with minimal scarring. Of course, if I do have a scar, and in the future anyone asks me how I got it, I will tell them of the wild beast I encountered one humid Saturday evening during the course of my travels and how she nearly tore me limb from limb, but I persevered…I persevered…

Happy Tuesday

4 Responses to “When Cats Attack”

  1. That Weather Girl April 12, 2011 at 8:25 am #

    Two words – falconry gloves.

  2. Fred Lehman April 12, 2011 at 8:44 am #

    Love you Catzen and love your blogs. 🙂

  3. mary ska April 12, 2011 at 11:46 am #

    we have been lucky enough to use pills for Dog flea repellent and it is expensive but works wonders We use drops from the vet on the cats much safer albeit a tad more expensive than dip (wait add in a doc visit and it may be cheaper) hope the hand does heal quickly The fight against fleas is an honorable one and living in a travel trailer I am determined to win that one

  4. Deb April 12, 2011 at 7:01 pm #

    You have just given me the best chuckle of the evening. Brought back warm thoughts of bringing Stella home the first time and sticking her in the tub, me ending up soaked and her swinging from the shower curtain. Sure hope you heal well just so you can do it all again some day soon…I really want to say something naughty here, but will refrain. lol!

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