These DAMNED Cats!
They'll be the death of me!
6:45 a.m. and the wife's in the bathroom this morning with the hairdryer going. I'm still snuggled but stirring in bed with Wallace kitteh curled up on my lap sleeping and I'm thinking about snoozing a bit longer and then going on a ride.
Aside from the hairdryer racket on the other side of the house, all is peaceful....
...until Gromit, our "Short Bus" kitteh gets his HEAD caught in the rope type handle of one of those fancy gift bags that the ladies like...you know, little bigger than a lunch sack, ornate glossy print on the outside with two stiff rope loops for a handle? Well, this one is full of some old bone china tea cups and saucers that the wife was going to give to a friend.
Have you ever heard fine china in a bag doing about 75 mph around and around and around a large living room?
No? Well, it sounds about like a twin engine Cessna coming through the fackin' roof! At least that's what Wallace thought while he was peacefully snoozing on my lap.
Now, I have 16 deep puncture wounds divided pretty evenly between my left thigh, the Johnson, and my left arm.
Wallace and Gromit are just fine now. Slightly humbled, but fine.
Me? I was left bleeding like a stuck pig but at least the broken china was contained in the bag!
Damn these Cats!
Here's Short Bus, Grom!
