Danger Cats

Jul. 8th, 2011 12:15 pm
plinko: Nostalgia (Default)
People apparently like it when I talk about my cats, but especially seem to like it when I talk about cats and danger at the same time. Last night, epic* danger occurred.

It's true. I might have a slight fascination...er...obsession with sharp pointy shiny things. Like knives. Okay, yeah, I own a lot of knives. I'm not really talking about kitchen knives. I'm more talking about things like: katanas, swords, butterfly knives, switchblades, utility knives, athames, throwing knives, and cool weird knives I got at various conventions or off the internet. I think I posted once about my beloved Laundry Knife, which was an elegantly simple fold-out knife that I found next to a random pool of blood in the laundry room of my apartment complex. (I have since lost the laundry knife. I can only imagine that is in the land of Lost Socks.)

I also like other sharp pointy shiny things. Like shuriken. And blowgun darts. And needles. And straight pins. Several little boxes of straight pins sit on a shelf near my desk. You know, in case I should suddenly feel the compulsion to hem something or villainously pop a child's balloon.

Now, my poor old cat Huxley, bless him, can't quite jump up on the shelves above my desk like he used to be able to. Sometimes there is a bit of scrabbling and kicking as he latches onto the shelves with his front claws and climbs with the back half of his body.

Last night, of course, cat-scrabbling joined with pin box location to result in a PIN EXPLOSION. Pins went everywhere. Pins went all over my desk, all over the floor, all over my keyboard, and of course, all over me. (Huxley avoided all pins.)

So here I am, sitting in the dark, unable to move because I have no idea where all of these pins are. Any movement could send a pin into whatever part of my body is moved. What should I do? What could I do? I screamed, "STEEEEEVVVEEEEENNNN!"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard it," he said as he walked into my office. He just doesn't even check on me when things go BUMP BANG CRASH anymore, or he'd just have to follow me around the house 24/7. I've been told repeatedly that he will be purchasing a helmet and padding for me Very Soon.

Of course, wherever Steven goes, Seti has to go. Because that cat WORSHIPS him. If Seti could talk, and was our child instead of our cat, I am pretty sure he'd sound like this, "Dad? Dad, are you doing something? Is that cup for me? Is that shoe for me? Dad, what are you doing with that pan? Can I see? I want to help. Why are you ignoring me? Dad, I brought you a ball of foil. And a dangly thing. Please pay attention to me. I'm going to be cute. See? I'm making those talking-noises you like to make. And I'm being cute and putting my head all upside down and showing you my belly. NO. DO NOT TOUCH ME WITH YOUR FACE. WHY WOULD YOU DO SUCH A HORRIBLE THING?" Then he flees and hides under the television stand, but only the front half of him is underneath it. His butt sticks out, and he wags his tail like a dog, all happy that he has managed to find a place where you Totally Can Never Find Him.

So, Steven turns on the light and (in shoes) approaches my desk to survey the damage. And OMGZOOOOM, Seti whooshes onto my desk. Immediately, Steven whisks the inquisitive cat away, all the while admonishing him, "You can not help. You are a cat. You have no thumbs."**

Cats secured, I begin to very carefully attempt to remove pins. Steven attempts to help, but comes up with a very good idea of retrieving a magnet to aid in this task. Unfortunately, when he returns with the magnet, we learn that it's probably not a good idea to get a REALLY STRONG MAGNET which you hold with your EXPOSED FINGERS. Pins began to fly onto the magnet, without regard for the flesh attached to it.

In the end, we had a pin porcupine. Steven got a pin cut on his hand from the magnet technique. Huxley made it to his Way High Up Perch and went to sleep like the old man he is. Seti was banished to the hallway and cried for several minutes before wandering off due to cat ADHD. And I have subsequently moved all boxes of pins to inside a drawer.




*I am trying to get out of the habit of using the word "epic" for everything. But, really, this WAS sort of epic. I can see it being a brief aside in one of Homer's lesser works. Cyclops vs. the Pin Explosion.

** Okay, that's not really what he said, but I do say that to Seti almost daily.
plinko: Nostalgia (Default)
Also titled, "The Worst Thing That Ever Happened To My Cat".


This is a tale which begins while I am attempting to fold laundry. A whole big pile of laundry. It's phew-hot outside, and so I drop it on my bed and then attempt to turn on the TV. I thought I would watch a little random television whilst I folded the clothes. To tell the truth, it's really the only time I watch television that doesn't come from Netflix.

But, the clicker won't click, and despite some on-off-on-off of the television, I can't seem to make it work. "Aha" my 102F addled-brain declares, "We have recently installed an XBOX360. Perhaps something is...unplugged." So, I go over to look for the offending cable, which happens to be the HDMI cable. You know, the ones that cost about $8, but sell for $300 at Best Buy?

Okay, quick diversion.

Not three weeks ago, our house had a minor infestation of fruit flies. The cause turned out to be an orange that had gone a bit ripe. (How can you tell with oranges sometimes, you know? The skin stays orange, but inside it's all ooky-squish-gross.) So, we had fruit flies. And, in order to combat the fruit flies, I bought fly paper. If you've never used fly paper (and I know most of you have), it comes in a little paper roll. You pop one end of it off, pull out the coil of sticky-sticky-sticky paper, and use the included tack to hang it up. It smells nummy to flies, so they land on it and get all stuck and die a horrible gooey death.

I put up several of these around the house to get the errant fruit flies that had not yet died due to orange-removal. One of these strips I put up in our bedroom, next to the television.

I don't know why. I'm a dumbass, I guess.

So, here's me bumbling around, trying to plug in the HDMI cable, when all of a sudden...

*tunk* *hair* *sticky* *hairpull* "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

That's right. I had managed to get my hair stuck to the fly-paper.

So Steven comes running in and says, "Don't move!" I freeze in place, because so far it's only stuck to a few purple strands in front. "Okay, okay, I know how to fix it," he assures me. After prying the sticky-fly-paper off of my head (didn't hurt actually), he ushers me into the kitchen, grabs some olive oil, and has me lean over the sink. My hair gets gooped up with olive oil, and then rinsed out with dishwashing soap.

He does a pretty good job of it. No sticky left at all.

Steven and I laugh over the ordeal, and I feel relieved that my guy knows these sorts of clever things. And, thinking I am all clever too, I say to Steven, "Ah! You know, we don't have fruit flies anymore. We should take these things down before I accidentally do that to myself again."

Because I probably would.

Because if there is a table to bump my knee on, or a sharp thing to step on, or any chance of stubbing my toe, I will. I am, as they say, accident prone.

"Good idea!" Steven declares, and immediately we begin wandering the house, pulling down the six or so flypaper streamers that I've tacked to walls or whatever.

Here's a thing. I bet you didn't know that a streaming piece of curly fly-paper being taken to the trash can, all fluttery and twisty, all shiny and interesting...looks exactly like the BEST CAT TOY EVER.

EVER.

Out of nowhere, our cat Seti leaps...LEAPS across the room to catch this toy. He's a leaper, our Seti. Sometimes, he just stands next to the wall and waits for me to put my hand at progressively higher spots, and then leaps STRAIGHT UP to "catch" my hand's shadow. He can jump from a sitting position to over my head. So, when I say it was an unexpected and epic leaping, I do not much exaggerate.

So, Seti has caught a sticky piece of fly-paper. And it's sticking to his fur more and more by the moment. He quickly goes from, "OMG TOY" to "OMGWTF GET IT OFF". Unfortunately, in such a situation, the cat defies physics by being in the air, all claws, and all sticky flypaper at the same time -- but still unable to be captured by human hands.

This whole time, I am shrieking, "Oh god, Seti...no! NO!" Because I am envisioning him getting it tangled around his throat or taking a nose-dive into something sharp. Or some other fly-paper-induced fate that will forever mark me as the Terrible Person Who Killed The Cat With Fly-Paper. They'll have my picture at PetSmart and refuse to let me pet puppies or coo over baby bunnies. I will be...a Pet Owner Criminal.

When I finally get hold of the cat, I bring him to the sink. Steven and I both wince. Because I've got the cat, that means that Steven has to take off the fly paper. And it's just stuck in one big strip on his chest. We're both yelling and freaking out. The cat is freaking out and trying to climb up my face -- I swear a claw went up my nose. And finally, Steven gets the fly-paper off with alarming skill and seeming not really to hurt Seti all that much or tear very much hair out. In the end, I think that stuff is sticky like syrup, but not exactly like a binding glue.

"What should we do? The only thing I know to do is the thing with the olive oil. We might need to take him to the vet," Steven says.

We decide to try to olive oil, because at worst that's a bit of a laxative, and we decide it is preferable to whatever is in the flypaper goo. (Possibly toxic? Don't know!)

At some point, we trade, and Steven is holding the cat, and I'm washing the olive oil that Steven has applied off of the cat's stomach. And poor...poor Seti. He's given up by then. Just a sad-looking cat having warm water poured onto his tummy and neck, getting a bit soaped with dish-soap, and then having more water and more water again.

When he's finally finished with the emergency-bath, Seti leaps off my shoulder pretty much from the kitchen, THROUGH the dining room, and ends up in the living room. He does that weird leg-shake walk that animals do when something isn't right with their fur or skin, And despite the fetching of a towel and an attempt to towel-dry the cat, he decides he'll march around to show how he totally is above the complete embarrassment of the shenanigans which just occurred.

In the end, of course, everything is fine. Seti is still drying off. My hair is a little oily, but not sticky, and the laundry was finally folded.

Such a series of adventures and events. I can do nothing more than blame it on the evils of the HDMI cable. I THINK THE CABLE WAS PLANNING THIS DISASTER THE WHOLE TIME. So, watch out, people. HDMI cables. Not only are they overpriced, they also want to turn your cat into this:

January 2012

S M T W T F S
1234567
891011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
293031    

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 24th, 2017 11:07 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios