Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Insanicat

It has been almost a decade since I had constant contact with a kitten. In that time I forgot just how fuckin' insane they are.

We are never quite sure where Olive is going to strike next. She hides under beds and tables to attack our feet. She lays in the baby's crib to jump out and land on our shoulders. She springs up onto the table to steal bites of food from our plates, and knock over anything in her path. It's like living with the Viet Cong. I really wouldn't be surprised to learn she is digging small tunnels under the floorboards in order to aid in her stealth attacks.

Waiting to Strike

The worst of her onslaughts happen in the dark.

Take for example last night. It was the first night in a long time I had fallen asleep easily, without using relaxation techniques, i.e wine. I was warm, I was snuggly, and I was a prime target. She started slow, warning me for a change that she was about to attack. I awoke to hear menacing purring, close, too close to my ear. I pushed her off the bed -- a move I realize now was a rookie mistake. She took it as a challenge and was back split seconds later, purring louder, and digging her claws into my arm for traction. Now I was awake, though still not quite on my game. I rubbed her neck, enticing her to let go. Then I gently placed her on the floor. I thought she would see it as a true. Of course, now I realize the insane don't play by rules.

The next two hours were a fight. She would grab my feet, or my hands, or my ear, demanding attention, sometimes using her teeth, sometimes not. I would push her down, or put her in another room, or put her into a box marker China. Twice I put her outside. Twice she clung to the window screen meowing with all her might. I tried earplugs. She tried to pull them out. I tried burying myself under the blankets, she went digging for me. I thought about going out on the couch, but then I realized that would just be separating myself from the herd. At least in our bed there was the chance she would try to go after Ryan.

I am not sure if she eventually stopped attacking me, or if I just passed out from exhaustion. All I know is that when I awoke I had slept through my alarm because of the multiple ear plugs in my ears, and that I had a crude kitty face or pentagram scratched in my forehead.

Oh, and Olive was asleep. I guess even evil needs time to recharge.

6 comments:

Kim said...

I could feel tiny razor sharp kitten claws hooking into me as I read this.

kendall said...

My cat's 5 years old and he still hasn't outgrown this phase. I think he's broken.

calicobebop said...

Hmm, further proof that I need to adopt a six-year-old cat the next go-round. No more sharp crazy kitties!

Amanda said...

You always get the questionable cats.
She's training under Alice & still has the stealth that Alice lost ages ago.

erin said...

Your Olive sounds like my Olive.

Maureen@IslandRoar said...

Ah, kittens. I like to get them in pairs. Then they mainly maim each other and provide hours of viewing entertainment.