Oliver has HUGE gashes over each eye this week. One is actually kind of deep and I’m keeping an eye on it to make sure we don’t have a doctor visit in our future. He also has a cut on his eyelid. That one I saw happen.
Oliver was scratching the bald spot over his eye with his back foot. In case you’re new to this blog, Oliver’s back claws don’t retract. Some times he forgets this. Like…often. So he’s scratching away at that itchy cut over his eye and misses; he kicks himself in the eye.
There was blood. There was tears. There was a grey kitten who didn’t really want me to pry open his eye to look at his cornea.
It was fine.
So…that answers the question about Fight Club. Which, if you’ve seen the movie, you’ve suspected all along.
Not only was I cruel to Oliver, forcing him to take my medical care, I also cursed Obi this weekend. As if I’m not mean enough to him already.
The Boy and I were in the kitchen and Obi was laying on the floor showing us how cute he is. The cloth bag we get our co-op veggies from had fallen off its hook and was on the floor. Obi leapt at it and missed the opening so he was hiding behind it. I helped for two seconds by propping the opening of the bag so it was more open.
As I left the kitchen to go take a shower I mentioned that we should probably not encourage him to play with our cloth bag. After all, he could accidentally turn it into a Super Man cape and strangle himself. The Boy agreed, but they were playing when I left.
I can’t find the blog about the time Obi accidentally made a cape out of a plastic grocery bag and made four laps around the house in a panic before hiding under the bed in my office where I was able to liberate him – from a bag that was, by that time, full of kitten pee. He’s still terrified of plastic bags.
Well, as if I’d cursed him, it took Obi about half a minute after I left the room to get caught up in the fabric bag. This one he wore under his body so he wasn’t able to get up much speed and actually liberated himself before The Boy caught up to him.
Obi still wanted me to hold him and kiss his ears while The Boy told me of his harrowing experience. The brown kitten looked up at me, a little unsure about whether I could be responsible. It is hard to decide what to do when you don’t know if you can trust the mama. After all, I make it all better.
Well, I at least hang up the bag.
Happy birthday to my dad! Kitten Thunder performed a super nap in your honor this afternoon.
Thunder got tangled up in a plastic grocery bag once too — he was terrified. I had to pull him out of the back of the Hiding Closet to get it off him.
It would be so much easier if cats would just faint when they are terrified. This running at the speed of light and hiding stuff makes it really hard to help them.
That would be easier, but it would remove any motivation I’ve ever had for cleaning my closets. And by “cleaning”, I mean “just barely getting them into a state in which a cat would be unlikely to be crushed by falling objects in an earthquake.”
Apparently, getting tangled in grocery bags is fairly common, as I witnessed it happen with my sister’s cat. But one better is once I was at her house in her bathroom changing clothes to go on a walk with her. This same cat had accompanied me into the bathroom to “help.” I was switching bras and let the one I had been wearing drop to the floor. However, Taz was in the way and the arm strap hooked around his neck and off he went, just like the grocery bag incident. To this day, he is scared of my attack bras. Silly kittens!
Oh noes! Attack of the bra!
We have a strict “cut the handle or pick it up” policy with bags but sure as anything a cat will find any bag within seconds of it hitting the floor. It’s like they WANT to be tortured.
Poor kitties! I hope Oliver has a swift recovery.
He can’t recover. He keeps kicking himself in the face!