The Dangerous Life of a Cat Lover

I feel like that guy who lived in the wild with bears and cuddled them and thought he could understand them – only to be mauled to death.  Except in my case it’s cats, not bears.  Domestic house cats!

Nobody ever looks at you and says – “You’re living with cats?  Wow, that’s a dangerous life.”

But it can be.

Set aside the fact that my cats won’t ever maul me to death.  They can still physically wound me.

Someone would instead say – “You never had your cat’s claws removed?  Are you crazy?”  Of course, they would be thinking of my nice furniture, not my nice skin.

No, I never had their claws removed and I don’t plan to.  I wouldn’t want someone to remove my nails.  My hope is to eventually turn to claw caps when we have children, but in the mean time to keep up with clipping their claws every week.  It’s difficult, though.  I have to wait until they’re sleepy and don’t think it’s some kind of game that I’m touching their paws.

It isn’t clear to me where Scout gets his wildness.  He is a wild cat, not unlike a tiger in behavior…just much smaller.  You try to domesticate a tiger, it will always be wild and always pose a risk of turning, whether it means to or simply misjudges its own strength.

Scout playing in a basket

Scout is so small.  He wouldn’t even pass a tiger’s ankle.  But his personality is huge.  I write about him the most out of my three tabbies because he’s hard to forget for more than half an hour.  Whether it’s trouble he’s causing, or begging for lovin’ – if he’s awake, you know it.

I was writing an email about a week ago to a friend when I heard what sounded like claws in a screen, ripping ferociously.  My stomach dropped.  My new screen door.  Brand new.

I rushed downstairs to find Scout in full fight mode with the neighbor’s trespassing feline in front of the screen door.  The door was ajar enough that he could stick his head through if he tried, and would have easily escaped if I had not walked in when I did.  There’s no telling what would have happened – he could have chased the neighbor’s cat and been badly wounded (more vet bills), or become lost out there after the thrill of freedom wore off.

To intervene with his escape, I placed my foot in front of the door to block him as I closed it.  Still bushed out like a Halloween cat, he attacked, tearing the shit out of my foot.  It hurt like hell.  I was yelping and shouting and dragging myself upstairs to get the Peroxide and Neosporean and bandages.  Meanwhile, I’m leaking blood all over the floors.  M had to race to my rescue.  He put me in the tub to avoid more blood everywhere.  When my foot dried enough for me to get a good look, I saw a small hole in my foot.  It must have been deep to gush like it did.  M cleaned my wound and bandaged me good. I had to soak my sock and shirt in cold water because I got blood on them too.  Then I went back to the evening, eventually giving in to Scout’s undeniably cute mug.  I walked around with a painful foot for a full week, but had plenty of Scout’s hugs and nose kisses to make up for it.

When he’s good, he’s the sweetest cat in the world.  When he’s bad, he’s extremely careless with me and vicious with his brothers (he regards M as the alpha cat), but I can’t fathom the idea of life with out the furry bugger.

All three cats are my children.  I love them.  I’d hate to miss time with them.  And I wouldn’t trust anyone to be as dedicated to them as they deserve.  They get the best food, treats daily, clean litter, have nearly as many toys as I did as a kid including awesome cat trees, are always seen by the vet at the slightest onset of health concern, and have the run of the house (minus our bedroom).  They are a part of me and I like to think I’m a part of them – that they’d miss me too.

While life with Scout can be dangerous because of his wild nature and sharp claws, it’s a learning process.  I need to learn what I can do to avoid provoking his wild side in the wrong way.  The lesson I learned that night – the screen door can NOT be left open when we’re in another part of the house, especially after dark (which is when Mr. Bogey and Ghost…our nicknames for the neighbor’s cats…like to visit).

And pedicures are to be given on a more frequent basis.

P.S.  Scout seems to be doing better.  Today is our first attempt at removing the disposable litter pan to see if he will go back to his top entry box. Keep your fingers crossed.