Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Where I tell the world that my cat is a bastard...

Well, one of my cats single-paw-edly ruined my night last night.

I happen to love both of my cats. One is solid black, and his name is Boris. The other is a solid orange tabby, and his name is Sasha. Both cats were rescued as kittens from a no-kill shelter.

They're both still pretty young. Boris just turned two, and Sasha will be two at the end of November. So they still have a lot of rambunctiousness in them.

But Sasha crossed the line last night. While I was watching TV, I was holding a water bottle cap between my thumb and forefinger. Now, admittedly, water bottle caps happen to be the little monster's favorite toys. But he reached up and bit the hell out of my thumb while trying to steal the water bottle cap. For the first time in nearly two years, he bit me hard enough to draw blood! The little bastard!

I'll admit that I smacked him, scruffed him (rather roughly), and then threw him in the kitten room for the entire night. I refused to let him out of the room. Mind you, he has a litter box, food, water, and a twin sized bed to sleep on in that room. So it's not like I was depriving him of much - aside from free reign of the house and attention from me or my husband (who doesn't pay that much attention to him anyway). There are far worse punishments that could be doled out.

Don't let the cuteness fool you...

He's really demented...
Sasha: Wanted for blood-letting

It's just that the incident pretty much ruined my entire night. I mean, I'd been in a pretty good mood up until that point (aside from my husband depriving me of the comfortable couch, and stranding me on the back killer couch).

I wish I could say that the little dumbass would learn something from the punishment, or maybe even retain a memory of the incident and what the consequences were. But, I can't hold out much hope there. He's pretty much been proven to have the memory of a goldfish.


I'm not even sure what the entire point of this blog entry was now. 

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