Scratch My Eyes Out

Something scary happened last night......

Innocently, I sat on my couch dozing off, mostly brain dead.

Along comes old Electra. She wants head bumped. Like usual.

Only her claws, which grow like Oregon grass in the spring, are long curled hooks again. She attaches to the back of the couch. Accidental. Struggles.

I try to help her free herself. I'm that way.

In a sudden burst, she yanks free with her front claws, but to power the burst her rear feet fling out. One falls on air. She flails it frantically searching for a hold.

The hold she found was my face.

She realized her claws had bit the flesh of the one she loves and fell, rather than inflict more damage.

I grab at my left eye. I got it closed in time. But I have two long claw marks above it and below it.

Big deal, eh? The claw marks can join the punture and scratch from the church colony barbed wire fence that nabbed me in the face while hoisting a kitten-occupied trap up and over it.

This morning, out came the clippers and off came Electra's claws.

I almost never get bitten or scratched while handling feral cats I don't even know. I'm on my guard, then, I suppose, and more cautious. Most cat inflcted wounds I've suffered have been from my own dearly beloveds, the result of sharp claws and accidents.