Welcome Back, Cat-ter

30 Aug

Recently something horrible happened. Something grotesque and vile and gut-wrenchingly sad.

I hurt Floyd. I maimed her.

I didn’t mean to. She had been shedding her fluffy fur because of the crazy summer heat and all the stress and roadtrips and whatnot. This nasty furball had developed on her hips. She couldn’t pull it out on her own. I offered to help. I had some old mustache scissors that weren’t very sharp, I thought they’d do the trick. But then the Little F and his doggie friend got to playing and I turned briefly to tell them to knock it off, whatever they were doing.

And I sliced Floyd’s skin like paper. I cut her open like a fish.

She twisted and grabbed at the spot and suddenly her frail little skin just ripped open like a gaping chasm, waiting to swallow up all the happiness in the world. I started crying. She started crying. We both started crying. We went to the vet. She got some kitty stitches. We came home. She took a long walk outside and gave me the harshest cold shoulder possible.

This lasted for days. I tried to bribe her with chicken, tuna, steak. I got her catnip, toy mice, feathers. She just grumbled and cussed at me. I can’t blame her.

Until last night. She woke me up around 3am, howling at the bedroom door. I got up and let her in and she crawled into bed next to me. We didn’t discuss what happened. We just said we were sorry and went back to sleep.

What a wild strange trip it’s been.








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