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Danger Cats
Jul. 8th, 2011 12:15 pmPeople 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.
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.
