I live with my great (the adjective) grandparents while attending UVU. Call me a moocher....I dare you. But anyways they have a cat by the name of Tuffy...or Fluffy.....or Muffy now I can't remember. Depending on the gender of the week. But I am not much of a "cat person". And here are the reasons: it stares at me when I walk down the stairs, it stares at me when I go into my room, it stares at me when I come out of my room, and it swats at my heels. So I usually ignore it or when I am bored I throw things at it. I know it is up to no good so I give it no sympathy. I didn't realize it had any evil plans of getting back at my stuffing things in it's ears, I didn't think it was capable of such extremedies. That is until tonight.
Now, I have had pets, only they were loving, beautiful, and happy dogs. Cats are mean, snobby, and moody. Hence the name "catty". But I still get them. I know not to hold them by one foot and jiggle them until they barf. But I didn't know that cats didn't like stairs.
So my grandma made taco salads tonight and we decided we would eat them downstairs. She had to carry my grandpa's plate downstairs so I had an open arm, for which was to lead the cat downstairs so it wouldn't lick up all the sour cream. After whooshing at it's head for a while I decided to just grab it and go downstairs. I was holding it just like you would hold a laundry basket; tight but not careful. So it was fine going down the first half of the stairs. I don't know why it decided half way was the time to pounce on me. But it did. It brought it's ghoulishly long hind nails up to my arm and started hacking. and when I say hacking I mean murdering my poor defenceless arm. At first with the shock of what was going on I held tighter not wanting to drop it down the stairs. then once the adreneline wore off I felt the lacerating pain running up and down my arm, I threw that lowlife down as far as I could. Blast that fool!!! I quietly sat my plate down and shuffled into the bathroom to clean it off while thinking of all the bad words I could in my head.
I finally told my grandparents what happened and my grandma bandaged me up while they both cursed out the little wretch. I will get him back. But a scar or two would look pretty leggit.
Maybe I'll post a picture later. But I'm still a little bitter right now.
