Something happened to me in the wee hours this morning, a first. It wasn’t a pleasant first.
I was in a deep sleep, dreaming away (I hate my dreams, they’re so odd) and I was rudely awakened by a cat jumping on my head, claws out. Whatever cat it was held on.
This kitty had come from the bay window, the one that looks out onto the street. And this kitty decided that he or she no longer wanted to be in the window, but possibly wanted to lap from one of the multitude of available water bowls, or maybe partake an early morning snack.
And this kitty obviously was concerned about the landing, it wasn’t the soft pillow as usual, but a hard human head with slippery fur on it. And to prevent grave injuries that might be sustained by falling off of said head and onto said soft pillow, well, the claws were very important to keep traction.
I bled. It was like those cartoons where the cats latch onto someone’s head. Of course, I got verbal about the entire thing, got up to pee and check out the bleeding. Luckily it was under the hair, no visible damage. And I’m glad I don’t do much hair processing anymore, because you aren’t supposed to frost or perm when you’ve got a scabby scalp.
When I went back to bed, I lay down facing the other direction. Within ten minutes some other cat jumped onto that side of my head, but fortunately for both of us, this was a clawless landing. I couldn’t figure out why this was happening after years of having the bed in this position. Maybe it was because the darling Ciara was sharing my pillow. But a cat on my pillow is nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary.
The head landings were.