On top of the issues I’ve been having with the weakness in my arms and legs, etc, I now look as if I attempted suicide on my wrist. With a cat.
We’re having our new windows installed today, and the installer showed up surprisingly early — 7:30 AM, in fact. So we scrambled to round up the cats (well, Karsten scrambled — I shuffled) and lock them in the cat room. We got all except one, the smallest one. Bopper, the Ninjakitten (see icon). The one who was a feral kitten when we adopted her and who reverts to wildcat behavior when she’s scared. For 20 minutes, Karsten and I chased her back and forth across the house, frightening her into a panic state. Karsten was ready to give up. I was ready to try a different approach.
She was cowering in a corner of the living room, ears down, hissing, when I approached her slowly and made soothing noises. I took my time reassuring her, and she gradually began to relax. After a lot of convincing, I was able to pick her up and carry her all the way across the house with only minimal struggle on her part. Only when we got to the cat room door did she start to freak out, writhing wildly and carving a 5-inch gouge into my left inner wrist and a puncture in my right palm. But by god, I got her into that cat room.
And then I started cussin’ and cryin’ about how bad it hurt. Yowch! I should have taken pictures of it, but it was kind of gross. I’m all bandaged up now, and had to put on an extra-long-sleeved shirt to cover my wrist so my coworkers wouldn’t think I was making a desperate cry for help.
What a week this has been!