Saturday morning was a fitting end to my week. The important event of the period was the capture of Latigo and Latimer, and their dispatch to the possibility of permanent homes in another city. But incidental to that was a string of injuries – to me.
It began with being bitten by Latigo during his transfer from the trap in which he had been caught to the carrier in which he would be transported. It was not a serious wound, though I was mindful of it, as warned by several readers of the blog. It was, in fact, no worse than the bad plastic-cut (like a paper-cut only on the edge of a plastic sheet) on another finger, and the twisted ankle I suffered stepping off of my bicycle. Yes, I injured myself by stepping. That left me limping in pain for the remainder of the day, but was almost healed after a night spent horizontally.
Saturday brought a bloody climax to my impressive but, admittedly, insignificant damages. I woke at some point during the very early morning and Tucker, as he will do from time to time, crawled onto my chest and enjoyed some petting while purring. Despite his roly poly appearance, he can throw his weight around as regard the other beasts, swatting at them sometimes. Renn was also on the bed at that time, and apparently approached too closely for Tucker’s unsullied enjoyment of the attention I was giving him. Some whaps were exchanged and Tucker produced a mild snarl. At the moment he did this, I attempted to separate the combatants by pushing them apart. In the dark, I misjudged my aim and my hand slipped across Tucker’s furry face; my thumb caught on his canine, causing a small but jagged gash.
I told him later that he bit me, but he didn’t buy it. Nor was it true. I think a bite would have been cleaner. There was a substantial amount of blood, which was inconvenient at three o’clock in the morning. But having stanched the wound, I returned to bed and sleep.
Then, after I had risen, injected the sugar twins with their insulin, fed everyone, scooped litter-boxes and ate my own breakfast, I returned to bed for a couple of hours. (That’s my new routine. It ensures that a number of chores are out of the way before I finish my interrupted slumber.) Cammie sometimes comes to visit at such times, walking back and forth across my head, before setting with a loud purr on my neck. This time, one of her rear feet stepped on the side of my nose, a claw scratching it.
Why there are so many capilleries just under the surface of the nose, I know not, but they sure do bleed. One would have thought I’d lost a duel to a pre-eminent fencing master. After blood had spilled on the blankets, due to Tucker’s teeth, it seemed fitting that my sheets were smeared with blood following the princess’s claw. One finds it difficult to nap on a battlefield, so I decided to get up then. I’d had my five hours’ sleep anyway.
This morning, things progressed more peaceably, and I both slept in and escaped injury. Hopefully, that feature will continue for the week – at least until I trap more cats.