Saturday, October 9, 2010
When Animals Attack
I love my cat, but sometimes I just don't know what to do when she gets crazy. Since she was a little kitten she has always been a feisty cat, and this comes as no surprise being that every animal I have owned in my lifetime has been either crazy or stupid, not including my childhood best friends Abby and Tiger. The best dog and cat ever. In general though, I have had some winners of animals including our cat Golda. She was evil, but on the other hand I was about 3 years old when I put her in the dryer before we went on vacation for 3 days. We later gave her away to a farm. There was my snake Balfazar that I shared with my roommate, and I couldn't stand having him anymore being that we had to feed it the cutest little mice every week. We kept one once because it was so cute. There was my sugar glider that didn't let me touch it unless I wanted to hear the creepiest noise in the world. My two turtles were pretty low key, not crazy or anything. I once had a rabbit that actually danced, leaped and frolicked in our backyard. His name was cookie and he later got eaten by a fox. My angry purple bird was eaten by my cat. I always caught bugs and kept them as pets in my pink Kabootle. Fish were of coarse one of my favorites, but they were quickly replaced as well. I once made my parents let me bring home 10 crabs in their shells that I caught on our Padre Island vacation. 15 hours in the car ride home with a bowl full of crabs in the back seat reeking the place up. I believe the only reason my mom let me do this was because she knew they would die and wanted the pretty shells they lived in. I mean, I can't imagine my dad actually thinking that table salt would turn regular water into oceanic salt water. They didn't really die but rather disintegrated.
Yes, it was one of my many childhood dreams to become a veterinarian. Then I discovered that even watching animals die on TV was an unpleasant experience for me and that being a vet would mean I would have to see this perhaps everyday.
Nowadays I am less interested in animals and more interested in paying the bills, which is what I believe happens to most childhood animal lovers unless they go so far as to be a member of PITA. This reminds me of the other day when Christoph and I were walking around Lindau (a small town on lake constance) and noticed a smaller, older female army of animal rights ladies marching around holding signs with pictures of ducks being force fed by machines, and baby chickens getting their feet stuck in wires, attached with the saying "Don't eat mistreated animal meat". The question that Christoph and I had was, how on earth are we supposed to know if our delicious chicken breast got its feet stuck in some wire? Very disturbing pictures to look at while you are trying to enjoy some ice cream. Two feet behind these people came walking an older, farmer sort of looking guy who yells very loudly with a smug smile on his face..."Eat more chicken and meat! Eat more chicken and meat!" He was satisfied with himself as the poor ladies turn around and gave him nasty looks.
What I was trying to get was to tell you of my daily routine walking from the bathroom to my bedroom every evening. For some reason it only happens in the evening and it only hapepns to me. Our sweet little Velvie cat has some serious issues. You see, I get ready for bed, brush my teeth and so on to later head back to the bedroom as I am tired and done for the day. This is of coarse in my cats mind the perfect time for attack. Her victim is tired, and not so quick to block the attack. Perfect timing.
With my bed on my mind all of the sudden I hear the take off of kitty hiding behind the wall coming around the corner and if I am quick enough I can block her, but in most cases she is just too quick for me. Before I know it here teeth are sinking into my calves and I am screaming once again. As Christoph thinks this is very funny and is laughing in the bedroom, I am left frustrated and confused, wondering what I did to deserve such behavior. I lose it. And putting up with it every night is getting to be a bit of a problem. Curious as to why she does this I decided to research it. Turns out she just has some spasms from being cooped up all day and attacking her owner is the only way she can express this. i think an owner of PITA write that so I wouldn't hit her anymore after she did that. I decided it might be a good idea to start letting her outside. We'll see if it gets better, otherwise I am going to have to wear rubber boots in the trip from the bathroom to the bedroom. Posted above is the little devil herself.