Jezebel is an older cat who has one game she likes to play – falling on her side at my feet so I lavish her with attention. Stroking her flank, rubbing her head so her ear folds back, patting her backside to make her flip, even pushing her across the carpet are all good fun.
She has the unfortunate habit of demanding this when I first come home from the gym or something. Yesterday, I had just mowed the grass. Feeling exhausted, I didn’t bend down but sat at her side to play.
When I would stop on a normal day, I found myself too tired to stand up. Fool that I am, I continued to touch her. And with zero warning, she decided enough was enough.
Claws came out, fangs baring in a hiss, and a minute later blood bubbled out of two cuts on the back of my wrist. Another claw scratched me in the same alignment, all three wounds swelling due to lingering allergic reactions to such intense contact.
I had to stop myself from digging in with my own nails when the healing itch set in this morning. Oh, well. I consider these rare incidents as a sort of inoculation, like my allergy shots from childhood.
|At Least I Know My Blood's Clotting Factor is Healthy|