2/8/05

Kitty Porn

After being away in Florida for two weeks, our three cats were incredibly happy to see us. Other than a quick check by some friends to make sure they still had food, they haven't seen a human in what I think must seem to them like 2 or 3 cat years. Our oldest cat, Ginger, a female, was especially glad to see us since she gets picked on mercilessly by the other two when we aren't around. She is squirrelly, skittish, and has what seems to be a permanently damaged personality. I think all of her problems date back to her kittenhood, or more specifically, back to the portion of her kittenhood spent with us.

She was a tiny Turkish Van. I know that sounds like a VW Bus full of hookahs, but it's not. She was barely eating solid kitten food, and we were hoping she wouldn't starve to death. We almost brought her back to the store. The first couple of nights, she cried incessantly on the floor next to the bed, because she was too small to climb or jump up. As a result, my wife would pick her up and place her on the bed, insisting that the cat sleep between us until she was old enough to be left outside the bedroom with the other cats. This was fine with me, as it shut both of them up and allowed me to get some much-needed sleep.

Somewhere around the third night, I was sleeping the sleep of the dead. Contrary to my expectations, I had gotten almost no sleep the previous two nights, since I kept worrying that I was going to roll over in my sleep and crush the life out of this new kitten. Plus, she purred like a 100hp Evinrude outboard. Even so, I was bone tired, and drifted off immediately.

On that night, a bad thing happened. Oh, not what you think. I didn't crush her. Well, physically anyway -- it's a distinct possibility that I may have crushed her emotionally.

My wife had also been having a hard time sleeping, and this night was no exception. She is normally a restless sleeper, and on this particular evening, the reason she couldn't sleep was because the kitten was purring too loudly, and I was apparently dreaming something that was causing me to chew gum in my sleep. I heard none of this -- I was out like a heavyweight boxer on the losing end of a Tyson roundhouse right. Comatose.

My wife kept poking me with her elbow, and telling me to stop, but I kept right on snapping my gum, refusing to wake up and roll over. Instead, I just went on blithely dreaming about bubble-gum and Britney Spears.

Actually, I am not sure exactly what I was dreaming about, but I distinctly remember when I was jolted fully awake. It was the exact moment that the kitten, apparently pissed because my output was wholly inadequate, clamped down hard on my left nipple. I sat straight up, with the kitten hanging off my chest, and screamed, "HEY! THE CAT IS SUCKING ON MY TIT!!" I frantically pawed at my chest until the cat fell off, and then examined my mutilated nipple. Slight abrasion, a few teeth marks, nothing to indicate permanent physical damage.

Emotional damage -- well, that remained to be seen.

My wife, doing her wifely duty, almost pissed herself laughing.

The first thing I did after the Unfortunate Incident was to get out of bed and put a T-shirt on. A really thick T-shirt. The second thing I did was tuck it into my underwear. The third thing I did was tell my wife that were definitely keeping this cat.

Neither one of us got much sleep that night. One of us would snicker, and then it would turn into a giggle-fest of immense proportions.

"......thought you..were chewing gum....."

"...bit me...wasn't...getting any...."

[five minutes of insane laughter]

"....can't believe you didn't wake up...."

"...nipple....still has teeth marks..."

[five more minutes of insane laughter]

I'd like to think I formed a permanent and lasting emotional bond with my cat that night. I'd like to think so, but I'd be wrong. In truth, it's more likely that I scarred her for life, and the memory of me screaming and tossing her off my chest will be with her forever. That probably explains why she runs away from me when I don't have a shirt on. I don't think she wants to do it anymore. It breaks my heart.

Still, it's good to be home.

2 comments:

  1. Hehe I think you're more traumatized than the cat.

    ReplyDelete