Kitty Kapers


Demon Cat

Xena: Demon Cat

 

[NOTE: This was written at 4:32 a.m. 06/28/13.  I took it from my old blog…]

Well, we recently adopted a rescue animal; our new pet cat “Xena” is the newest addition to our family.

We got her several months after the passing of our last pet which was a dog; I can’t believe how different the two are. Dogs are aggressive, mass consumers that tend to sleep at night while cats are finicky and playful and tend to live the nightlife. Even as I lie here typing this journal entry into my iPhone, all I can hear is the thump, thump, ping, pong, thud! as she playfully chases her jingly ball across the dark kitchen floor. That is until her attention focuses towards the foot of our bed; that’s where the tag from the blanket—which she loves to chew on—is located. She’s really active down there….down by my feet. She leaps and bounds at every slight movement under the cover and pounces on my feet all through the night. My right leg is very uncomfortable right now but I don’t dare move it to a more soothing position for fear that Xena will attack.

[several minutes pass]

She’s quite the ballsy cat, tho. I get up to go to the bathroom and she begins to follow me. As I sat there in the dark—I keep the light off because it’s still too early—I see the shadow of Xena creeping into the room. She’s sleek and slender and thinks that I cannot see her. Stupid humans; I’m sure she thinks she’s either a ninja or invisible. She slides effortlessly between my legs, begins to purr, and then sits inside of my shorts; she has apparently set up camp for the night while I visit “The John”.  I finally nudge her out but she doesn’t go far. She walks a few steps and stretches. Stops. Turns around and then stretches again. I’ve never known any animal to stretch as much as my cat; she sleeps about a hundred different times a day and can’t go two feet without stretching right before falling asleep again. Is this normal? I walk over to the sink to wash and she moves over a few inches, stretches and sits. Of course she’s blocking the doorway, so I have to carefully step over her because, God forbid, she should have to move. And I have to do it slowly or she may get riled up and grapple with my foot—mid-air—as it passes above her. She’s done it several times before and I wouldn’t put it past her to attack again while I’m at my weakest: half asleep and unprotected by any layers of clothing from her claws. Except for my boxers that is… What is it with her and feet? Is this some feline fetish?



Xena is now perched on the window sill above my head watching me here in the dark as I type this on my iPhone. I can see her bright yellow eyes from the glow of my phone as she carefully watches my jittery fingers nervously trying to complete each word. I feel she may attack soon. So if this journal entry never sees the light of day, please know that I lived a good life and have no regrets. Godspeed and good night…

Addendum:

And why do I have to protect my junk while I’m trying to sleep? The pillow that I used to keep between my legs is now used as a guard so that I won’t wake up with crushed nuts every time Xena shoots across the bed to chase one of the cover’s down feathers that she’s somehow freed from one of the ripped pillows or quilt. Our oscillating fan stirs them up into an enticing whirlwind and it’s all of a sudden a raceway in here as though she’s trying to frantically cover evidence of some heinous crime, much like in the cartoons I remember watching as a kid. Is there no hope for me at all?




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