Change in Plans

I had a number of ideas I would write about today. There was the continuing search for the Great Omaha Northwest Passage that would allow me to ride from the house out to the rural west (10 miles, Cooper Village run). There was the realization that with another monster iStudioLink cable, I could play my guitar through GarageBand and then out through my amp, really annoying Judy. There was the interesting coincidence of reading an essay by Ian Frazier about the lack of "doing nothing" the day after I read an news article about time management and a professor who's written a book a year while teaching full-time.

I could have written about any of these things and still may, but not tonight.

Instead, I'll be discussing my beloved cat, Haley, who once again forced me to seek medical treatment for a bite wound. Haley hates, I mean HATES every single other cat put on this earth. I don't know what happened to her in that shelter, but she will take on any cat, any time, any place. And she's not mellowing with age. In her daily life, she's a bit slower, can't jump as high, and sleeps a lot more, (although its hard to tell with a cat). But put a cat anywhere within range, and she's a drunken sailor uncertain of his sexual orientation who just heard something about his mother. And since I never allow her to quite get at the offending feline, she takes a chunk out of me.

This is bite number three in our relationship. The first was on the calf. The second on the left hand. This third one, the right hand. The first one I intervened between Haley and a black stray that was sitting outside the screen door. Haley flipped off the stove and sunk her teeth into my calf before calming down. On the second one, I took Haley off her leash when she was tangled up outside. I didn't notice that our next door neighbor's kitten was in their backyard. Haley was off like a rocket. Before she made tender vittles out of little fluffy, I went for the scruff, Not quickly enough, however, and two bites came so quick I never even saw the second one. That bite was bad enough that I ended up in the hospital overnight fighting an infection.

Today, Haley was out front, munching on some grass. I occasionally let her out on the front porch because she likes it so much. Who should happen along, but a stray cat crossing the street. Haley set out, not quite as fast, but more like the heavyweight she is. A determined stalking straight toward the victim. I yelled, but her ears never even rotated back. I caught her about half way across the yard and this time was able to scruff her and carry her away. She was not pleased. A lot of yelling and hissing--which is not uncommon with Haley--but nothing too bad. However, it steadly increased until just before the front door when that coiled anger unleashed. She got her head far enough around and bam. Two punctures on either side of my index finger. After I dropped her, she went right inside the open door. Grumbling a bit, but not threatening at all.

It felt like the aftermath of a scene of domestic violence.

Haley: Ah, baby, I'm sorry.

Scott: *sob*

Haley: Aw baby, you know how I get when its like that. Why do you get in my way?

Scott: I know, I know, I'm sorry.

Haley: I love you, baby. It'll never happen again. I swear.

Then they grill me at the urgent care clinic. Asking me if there's anyplace I can stay? Are there kids or kittens involved? And yet I keep going back. Because I know she loves me. And I can change her.