Ugh. What a way to start the day.
Pharaoh, my silver tiger, somehow fell off the wardrobe and got wedged in between it and the wall. I was awoken by the lovely sounds of a screeching cat, who, when I tried to rescue him, was so freaked out he actually bit me! Timid, shy Pharaoh. Well, I couldn’t pull him out, nor was I strong enough to pull the wardrobe away from the wall, so I had to firmly plant one foot against the wall and use my body weight to tilt it so he could get out. I was so darn concerned for his well being, I didn’t even realize I had 4 large bleeding wounds on my arm. Great. It’s all swollen now and I guess I’ll have to go to the Bob Hope Wellness Center for some antibiotics.
Meanwhile, the kitty, who I named Mayflower because my Mum lives in Plymouth, hasn’t been doing so well. The other cats clearly do not want more than 11 cats total. They tortured poor Belfast, our previous number 12, to the point where he escaped and never returned, but he was mean spirited. Mae is wicked sweet. She just loves the company of people. She’s fallen asleep on me on the couch. My Dad would call her a “TV cat.” The Boy hasn’t told anyone about her because he wants to keep her now, but he’s not here witnessing the power play. When you have 11 cats you no longer have pets, you have a colony and you are at the mercy of that colony. You can’t force anything on them. They will get their way. *sigh*
Anyhoo, I’m just completely beat.