Caught in a cat fight….

May contain some choice language; be warned.

4am; I awoke to MMMEEEEEEEEEOWWWW…GRRR….YOWWWWW….MMEEEEOOOOW.
I shot out of bed, still ¾ asleep. There was Mum’s cat, Too, sitting on the inside of my window ledge next to my bed. It was Dotty making all the noise. As soon as I whipped back the curtain, Too scarpered.

Dotty in the meantime, slipped out the window, changed his mind and turned back. At that point I was reaching for the handle to close the window. He was still in attack mode. I wasn’t quick enough.

He launched at my hand. My automatic reaction, as he was sinking his rather sharp claws and teeth into my hand was to try to pull it back. Big mistake. HUGE mistake. He was stuck fast. Ed in the meantime was wakened too, hardly surprising given the racket. I let out what seemed to me to be, “Arghhhh yah fecker!”

Once Dotty let go, my first reaction was to make a run for the bathroom, leaving a trail of blood on the window ledge, bed side table, carpet and a trail to the sink (I was really popular). I started hyper-ventilating. I must have resembled an animal deprived of water for 6 weeks. The blood poured down the sink as I tried my best to wash the wounds, letting out wimpers, in between trying to catch my breath.

All of a sudden, the world went a pretty shade of yellow. There were lovely sparkly stars too. Luckily, the lid of the loo was down. I collapsed in a heap on the seat, a little voice in me, wimpered, “Ed… Ed….” No answer…. He was maybe out trying to kick the cat (not his fault), more likely finding our first aid kit…. No answer…. “ED!!!!!!!” I shouted. By the time he got to me, it wasn’t only the room that was yellow… my face was pretty yellow too.

“I’m going to pass out…. I need to lie down,” I gasped.
“No, no. You just sit there, you’re better there.”
“For fucks sake, Ed I’m the fucking first aider, I have to lie down NOW!”

The alternative wouldn’t have been bonny. I probably would have been jammed between the toilet seat and the radiator if I’d fallen off. Thankfully, I didn’t pass out. I made it to the bed. Ed did put a bucket beside my bed, on a just in case basis. We cleaned my wounds, slathered them with Savlon and bandaged my wrist and hand. Well, I did, Ed was busy using vanish on the carpet to get rid of the blood.

We must learn from things, really, we do. So, here we go:

Never mess with an angry pussy.
Keep a water pistol beside the bed.
The harder you tug, the worse it gets; when hanging onto pussy.
Be prepared to be called all the fannies under the sun by your other half.
Being asked, “What the fuck did you do that for?” actually doesn’t make you feel better.

All I was worried about was whether I would be able to ride my bike the next morning.
As it happens, it’s ok. Just ok, mind. I checked it out this morning on my trip to the dentist in Callander. I am taking serious pain killers until I can get to the doctor this afternoon. That visit will involve at least antibiotics, potentially a tetanus injection too…. Ed’s hoping that I get a jab in the arse. It might wake me up.
I have developed a new positive steering technique with my right hand, involving the heel of my hand. It’s the only bloody bit that doesn’t hurt. It works though. Braking makes me cringe a bit.

Off to a wedding this weekend. At least if I have to keep the wounds covered, there’s a remote possibility the bandage will match my frock. For that matter, I won’t be doing a strip-the-willow in a hurry.

Geez.

You laughed, didn’t you? You can go off some folk.

P.S. Sorry Ed. I know you will read this eventually. You didn’t sleep past 4am.