After nearly three months, our oldest Siamese, Jasmine is still having a difficult time accepting the fact that our youngest Siamese, Skippyjon is here to stay. At best, Jasmine "tolerates" Skippy in the household. She does draw the line, however, when it comes to him being in our, er .. I mean "her" bedroom.
Two nights ago we had all settled in for the night, me with Jasmine curled up by my side on the bed and Skippy supposedly snuggled in his spot with Adam upstairs. All seemed well with the world, until I heard Jasmine's soft purring turn into that tell tale belly growl that indicates Skippy has entered the scene.
I waited, hoping Skippy would take the hint and go back upstairs, but as is his usual reaction he decided to linger and antagonize the poor old cat perched above him on the bed. Finally, I sat up to see exactly where he was in the room and hopefully shoo him out.
As I pushed myself into a sitting position and threw off the covers, I managed to startle Jasmine. She, no doubt thinking Skippyjon had ambushed her sprang off the bed. Unfortunately, my right hand was planted just behind her when she decided to spring, and she dug her back claws into my palm in the process.
"Crap!" I exclaimed, and followed her out of the bed intending to go into the bathroom where I could examine my injuries in the light.
As soon as my feet hit the floor I realized I had landed between the two cats who were now hissing and growling as if they were possessed. Instinctively, I grabbed a pillow from the bed and tried to put it between them, hoping it would give me a chance to get out of the way before the posturing stopped and the tooth and nail part of the fight ensued.
I was too late. At the same instant I dropped the pillow in front of Jasmine, Skippy lurched towards her. Lucky for Jasmine, my right shin blocked his attack.
Not so lucky for me, because the same shin also caught the full impact of his bite.
"Owwww ...." then "Crap!" again.
With the pillow, I started pushing Skippy towards our bedroom door, finally forcing him into the hallway just outside our room.
As I slammed the door in the perplexed little cat's face, I realized blood was oozing down the front of my leg. By this time, I was closer to the hallway bathroom than to our master bath, so I opened the door again and flipped on the light.
On either side of my lower right shin was a set of puncture wounds the exact size of the Skippyjon's mouth. Blood was streaming from all four punctures marks, all the way down to the top of my foot.
Skippy sat staring innocently up at me, then dropped to his back and rolled around in front of me as if to say, "Oh good! You're awake! I was just hoping for someone to play with."
Resisting the urge to step ON him, I stepped over him and into the hallway bath where I grabbed a wet cloth with which to clean my injuries. Skippy, still not understanding what the fuss was about or that he was quite possibly in danger of losing one of his nine lives, followed me to the kitchen and watched curiously as I took four bandaids out of the cupboard and applied them to my leg.
In all my years of being owned by cats, this is a first! I've had my share of cat scratches, but this really beats all I've ever seen. My lower leg looks like I was bitten by a snake on each side of my shin.
It's swollen and red. And you wouldn't believe how much it HURTS!
From now on I will make sure I shut our bedroom door at night, just in case Skippy decides to go on the prowl instead of going to sleep with the boy. It's either that, or wear gloves and shin guards to bed. I'm pretty sure Mr. Taylor would not approve of the latter.
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