Why meeeeeeee?

Do you see this face?



This is Eleven, AKA Coon Baby (because she likes to drop food and toys in the water dish), AKA Truck Driver (because she just is).

Isn't she adorable?

When I was here visiting in summer of 2005, she peed in my lap because she sensed I was getting in between her and her mommy. But we've since gotten past that, and she is now my little buddy, a wee pal with a 'tude who will nonetheless usually come when I call her, jump up in my lap, and dance the dance of the flesh tearing. I love this little girl.

Saturday, as I was preparing to leave, I stacked everything I wanted to put in the car out by the back door to facilitate the loading of the Cruiser. It was for perhaps ten minutes that I left my goods unattended. When I began gathering an armload to take outside, I realized that there was some, ah, moisture that I had not put there.

Eleven, in registering her displeasure at my departure, peed in my purse. Not just on my purse - in my purse. Luckily, she missed my iPod and my cell phone, but let's just say there will be gum and tissues that need replacing. I have already replaced the purse because, well, I like to be noticed, but not because I smell like cat urine.

It's apparent to me that the cats are conspiring to punish me for being away for a couple of days. I mentioned in my last post that Friday and Thirteen had torn my room up pretty badly in my absence. Last night, Thirteen was happy to greet me, but Friday was a little stand-offish, displaying a "Fuck you, mommy!" attitude as only a gay little tuxedo kitty can. Well, this morning, Friday woke me up about 8:30 with loud purring right in my face and a bit of shoulder dancing. I hugged him and gave him some pets and kisses, and then he settled in against my shoulder and cheek. Then I smelled it.

Upon further investigation, it turns out Friday had poop stuck to the end of his tail. Isn't that a wonderful way to greet mommy first thing in the morning? I took him in the bathroom and washed it out - luckily, not too awful a task with a short-haired cat. Returning to bed, I figured that would be the low point of my day, and thought no more about it.

Ha!

This evening, I saw Thirteen shoot out of the cat box like he had a rocket up his ass. I noticed he left a little present on the floor behind him, so I cleaned that up. Then he jumped up in my lap, and I realized that...Thirteen had poop stuck to his tail. Aw, fuck! I hustled him into the bathroom and attempted to wipe it off with wet paper towels, but the task was not so easy in his long fur. I decided to run some warm water and rinse his tail. He was okay when I picked him up, but as soon as I turned him around and he could tell he was heading for that running water, he freaked out completely, went a little berserk, sliced up my wrist and the heel of my hand, and sunk a claw right into my neck.

Being the ladylike and reserved little debutante that I am, I believe I uttered something modest like, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH MOTHERFUCKER AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

I finished the laborious task with paper towels, and lots of antibacterial soap on my wounds.

Never again will I think smugly to myself, "Well, my day can't get any worse that this."

The part that really frightens me is that the day isn't over yet.

Addendum: I wonder if this recent gift from Jess would explain the things in this post. Hmmmm...