Wednesday, January 17, 2007

vicious feline attack

One of the outside kitties snuck into the house while I was at work last night. Thor's a very cute cat, maybe six months old, but not at all social and entirely feral; I'm not sure what tempted him to try inside life, but he didn't like it and hid under the stairs. Laura waited for me to get home to extract the Kitty Of Thunder; it's one of my husbandly duties, like laundry or drywall repair. After a few minutes of chasing him around the basement, he ended up stuck behind the dryer, and I reached down to grab him. Thor wasn't in the mood for this, so he decided to smite me. I blasphemed a bit, got my welding gloves, and tried again. This time I got him out; he still managed to land a good bite just above the glove, but I dropped him in the kitty carrier and hauled him outside again. Much peroxide and alcohol (the rubbing kind) and further blasphemy later, my wounds were cleaned and we went to bed.

I woke up this morning to a raging infection in the kitty hand; Thor's mouth apparently carries a pretty common cat bacteria that breeds well in people. Much redness and swelling and joint stiffness and general ouchiness. Laura was worried that I maybe had contracted rabies, but nothing so exciting (or terminal, thankfully). The doctor assuaged our rabies worries and gave me a prescription for some potent antibiotics. I've already taken my first dose and some ibuprofen, and now I'm going to take a nap.

I've had some impressive injuries in my life, and many of them earned me cool guyness points; rock climbing accidents and martial-arts-related knife wounds are highly macho. I'm not sure where being gnawed upon by a kitten falls on the macho scale, but I know it can't be very high. I can imagine it ranks just slightly below wounds from broken mayonnaise jars. Maybe I should invent a heroic story about saving the cat. Or maybe I can just say that Thor bit me, and not specify that Thor is a five-pound cat. With a name like that, he might be a Doberman.

No comments: