goddam cat

.
after much experience in this regard, i've come to accept as axiomatic the fact that, at least once in the course of their lives, each and every one of my animals will try to kill me.

and i've always understood that they don't really mean it, because for the most part these attempts have been, at worst, benignly-neglectful acts--like lying sprawled in dark hallways waiting me to trip over 'em, or darting out in traffic, thus forcing me to risk life and limb in order to rescue 'em--there's nothing that could possibly be interpreted as intentional there, right?

and even when the assassination attempt took the form of a sneak attack, i didn't take it personally--hell, i tell myself, she didn't mean it; that coulda happened to anybody.

the common denominator in all these prior attempts? simple: they were all carried out by dogs (i.e., amateurs).

because lemme tell you something i learned just this past weekend: you want a real shot at getting the job done right, send in a cat.

picture it: saturday morning, late for work, cat's on the roof (as always). climb ladder next to roof (as always), grab cat, begin the descent (as always).

except this time, cat suddenly and inexplicably decides to throw in a new element: just as i'm bringing her offa the roof--both hands occupied with the task, and thus at maximum vulnerability--she suddenly decides (for no good goddam reason, because we've done this dance a thousand times) to attempt to lunge outta my hands back toward the roof.

newtonian physics being what it is, this unexpected maneuver impacts not only my equilibrium but also that of the ladder upon which uppermost rungs i find myself precariously balanced (with no hands free, i might redundantly add).

long story short: ladder goes left and i lunge right in an attempt to counterbalance, which might've actually worked if the cat hadn't taken the opportunity of my panic to wrench herself from my loosened grasp and claw her way back up to the safety of the roof--using, as leverage, the right side of my face, my right ear, the top and then a good part of the back of my head in the process.

next thing i know, WHAM! i find myself crumpled in a broken heap on the ground under the ladder, face and head shredded and bleeding, left arm numb (i wouldn't get full feeling back for several hours), looking vainly and plaintively up into the sky, asking "why?"

but i get no answer from the cat--safely back on the roof, licking herself, unconcerned and seemingly oblivious of the wreckage in her wake.

* * * * *

four days later, i'm still stiff and i still look like i've been in a knife fight. and every time that black-hearted little bitch looks at me, i can't help but interpret it as, "you might've foiled me once, but never fear--i'll get you next time."

and then she purrs, curls herself into my arms and i forget--almost.