Cat Scratches
Among our six cats, the one who seeks me out more often than the others (even more often than Tiba) is Socks.
Her purpose in life seems to be to share a location with me. When I'm sitting in the gray comfy chair, she sits on the back near my shoulders and head. When Vicki and I read our devotions in bed each morning, Socks sits on the night stand beside me, or curls up on my knee. And when I walk past the bathroom, she rushes in, hoping that I'll go and sit down. She doesn't seem to want to be scritched or petted, much, but she wants to be near me, preferrably to "own" me by being the sole cat in my space.
One of our bathrooms is right beside the front door. Anytime I walk to the front door, Socks interprets it as a potential bathroom visit, and rushes ahead to claim the space. I usually just disappoint her by walking out the door, but occasionally I scoop her up and take her along. In this way Socks has visited the drive-throughs at Taco Bell and Starbucks.
Tonight, right around sunset I decided to go clean out the mailbox. (Hi Mom . . . got the pictures. Thanks!) Socks, of course, headed for the bathroom, and this time I scooped her up and carried her out the door with me. She is never crazy about being carried, much less being carried out the door. As an indoor cat, she knows that what's beyond that door is not her territory. She bore the incident with her usual mild resistance as I collected the mail, but as we passed the van on the way back into the house she became more serious about freeing herself from my arm. Of course, my other hand was now full of newsprint and envelopes, and it was with difficulty that I maintained control of the situation, er, cat, until we made it back into the house.
I spent the next several minutes with Vicki pouring hydrogen-peroxide into the scratches on my left wrist and right hand. Tough love, eh?
[File under "Lessons I should learn this time"]
Her purpose in life seems to be to share a location with me. When I'm sitting in the gray comfy chair, she sits on the back near my shoulders and head. When Vicki and I read our devotions in bed each morning, Socks sits on the night stand beside me, or curls up on my knee. And when I walk past the bathroom, she rushes in, hoping that I'll go and sit down. She doesn't seem to want to be scritched or petted, much, but she wants to be near me, preferrably to "own" me by being the sole cat in my space.
One of our bathrooms is right beside the front door. Anytime I walk to the front door, Socks interprets it as a potential bathroom visit, and rushes ahead to claim the space. I usually just disappoint her by walking out the door, but occasionally I scoop her up and take her along. In this way Socks has visited the drive-throughs at Taco Bell and Starbucks.
Tonight, right around sunset I decided to go clean out the mailbox. (Hi Mom . . . got the pictures. Thanks!) Socks, of course, headed for the bathroom, and this time I scooped her up and carried her out the door with me. She is never crazy about being carried, much less being carried out the door. As an indoor cat, she knows that what's beyond that door is not her territory. She bore the incident with her usual mild resistance as I collected the mail, but as we passed the van on the way back into the house she became more serious about freeing herself from my arm. Of course, my other hand was now full of newsprint and envelopes, and it was with difficulty that I maintained control of the situation, er, cat, until we made it back into the house.
I spent the next several minutes with Vicki pouring hydrogen-peroxide into the scratches on my left wrist and right hand. Tough love, eh?
[File under "Lessons I should learn this time"]
posted by Daniel | 5:42 PM
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