surprised by joy

[pastoralice]

I got my first cat-related puncture wound today. I know what you're thinking: "You have a cat? You hate cats!" That I do. Or rather I had convinced myself I did. Let's be clear: it's an outside cat period. It will not enter the allergy-free zone of our home (by which I mean cat-allergy-free zone--we've got piles of dust that have formed interest groups and theological debates). It sleeps on the porch in a make-shift recycling bin bed and I took it to the vet for the first time today. Kit-Kat (a black tabby female who is not pregnant, thank God) had some trepidation when the cat carrying case came out. After a few minutes of the nice method, i.e. my putting delicious food in the crate and waiting for her to go inside so I could close the cage, I gave up and just crammed her in there. Nicely, though. Anyway, I got scratched on my stomach for my troubles and then later at the vet she swiped with her savage claws and I began bleeding profusely from three punctures in my fingers. All the while she was either crying piteously or making a small, domesticated cat version of a roar. Very disconcerting. But, she's home, she's had shots and topical applications and has been cleared for spaying sometime in the near future.

And before you ask, I will absolutely NOT be one of those people with "My cat is smarter than your honor student" bumper stickers or cute kitten Christmas cards or any other cat-themed merchandise. Be warned--if it is given, even in jest, it will end up in the dumpster.

All that said, I love Kit-Kat. She's surprisingly affectionate. She's beautiful. And, apparently, I've really wanted something furry to cuddle besides Loving Husband.