Speedy Carter yanks on a cat's tail at least five times a day. The cats have tolerated him; they get flustered and scramble away. I've been naive in thinking I have pretty good cats, they
would never intentionally defend themselves. Yesterday Tigger proved me wrong.
I was cooking dinner.
A cat snarls.
Hysterical, tear-filled cries.
Blood trickling out of Carter's plump, little, once flawless arm.
I want to drop Tigger off at one of those bookstores who have cat adoption agencies. I'm sorry, our animal adoption program is only here on Saturdays. We leave the cat in the middle of the Self Improvement aisle, make a mad dash for the car and speed off.
You'd think Carter learned his lesson yesterday. Today the first thing he did after he finished his breakfast was make another beeline toward his begrudging cat.
I can't believe this is my second blog post about cats in the past week. Because I think I hate them.