I usually clean up small wounds and put adhesive bandages on them for good measure, but today’s minor mischief will need to make do with the quick rinse in the shower.
See, I don’t mind that my cats sometimes see me as just another object in the house to be climbed on and over at their leisure, but when it comes to kitty scrambles, really, they’re going to have to learn to go around.
Today, I was down on hands and knees, cleaning up a stubborn bit of cat-created regurgitory delight on the hall floor when the kitten cavalcade struck in full fury.
Coco bolted through the door, a brown tabby comet blazing like her tail was on fire. Intrepid scramblenaut that she is, Coco hunkered down and passed underneath me. Not a half second later, Esme followed, her own afterburners full out open. Not for her the underhill route. No, she launched herself upward, leaping onto and over my back, fully taloned for extra traction and that backlegs power kick-off.
I suppose it was my fault for having the nerve to be smack dab in the way when the Skitter Sisters experienced the Irresistible Urge.
Stupid stupid human me.
Anyone want a cat?
(I’ll keep Coco. She was polite enough to go under.)
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