Tillie is back on double double secret probation. She had a “hissy” and scratched me up good. Meanwhile, Peas is a cow eating my grass. Colleen thinks grass is good for cats. And she thinks Tillie is a “fraidy cat.” Maybe, (my wife is always right), Tillie got spooked when I started to carry her? She’s docile and timid this morning. I’m still scratching (pun) my head to figure, do I have a psycho cat? Aha! I might change her name to “PC.” Alas, that would be to close to “Peas.” The wound? It was superficial and looks worse than it feels.
Note: I post in advance. So, to make this – not – a cliffhanger, Tillie has recovered. My wounds are healing. Tillie has a sweet disposition unless you get her riled. My bad. We are communicating. I thought I spoke cat. I don’t. My skin is healing. My relationship with Tillie is mending. It’s all good… so far. And yes, that’s rain on the window.
Note note: Current – the scar is permanent on my wrist – a reminder. The sisters – Maine coon cats, female, and large – have decided to pick on and attack Peas, randomly, consistently, and with malice. Why can’t we all get along? … because I cannot help but kick the can.
Don’t do this at home. This is a mandolin. Years ago, Lisa forbade me from using one. Ha! Is it sharp? Yup, very! I’ve been cut before. Never so badly… Two of my assistants in Saudi managed to cut me with a scalpel. That was harrowing. And, stupid… very, on my part. In all my years as a surgeon I was never cut before that. Now, I’m cut again. If you are squeamish, I, at least, did not show you gore. It was pretty bloody. Nothing to be done if you shave off your finger nail and part of the nail bed. Ugh!! The bleeding stopped. “All bleeding stops.” – operating room motto. How? It was an unforced error; I was momentarily distracted by Colleen. She is now on a short distinct list. I won’t forget her. Ha!
Epilogue: The nail has grown back, almost. I cringe to think of the wound. I not only forgave Colleen, I married her. The ham dinner was a success. Only one guest, Kathy, noticed I was cut.
I should qualify for stupid to get this purple heart. Elle, has been moping for a few days. Today we found blood on the rug by her favorite spot. So, I set off to capture and examine her. If she doesn’t want to be caught… well, I/we got her. And the cut is still bleeding, though not fresh. I got my wounds holding her to clean and see the extent of the wound. I finally got a picture of the wound a day or so later. It’s gruesome. Don’t laugh. As a surgeon I relate way better to clean wounds.
She’s on quarantine. I want to be sure she heals… and that she’s doesn’t bleed all over the furniture. The latter is just humor. There’s nothing funny about a beloved wounded cat. My bad. Spice and Elle fight all the time. I punished Spice for chasing Elle. The cut was probably not made by Spice. She only has back claws and her teeth would not be guilty of making this wound. I did it again. I blamed the wrong culprit.
The tool bench was here when we moved in. it’s gotta go. It was mostly the reason for the cut in the tail. Patch has had recurrent wounds over his right eye. Why there? And every time out, it’s the same spot. Insanity – cat.