Only he doesn't realize that if he is successful his meal ticket and chest scratcher also disappears. Why do I think he is out to get me? Let me build up my case. Three weeks ago, I was laying on the sofa with Sasha on my arm. His head was in my outstretched arm which put his back feet perilously close to my face. So close in fact when a motorcycle drove by and scared him, he used my face as his spring board towards safety. I received a nice slice in my cheek. I jumped up and ran to the vanity mirror, looked at my face to find that the bottom of the scratch had about an eighth of an inch of open flesh. Much to my surprise the room began to darken and I realized that I was going to pass out. I quickly got down on the floor to let the feeling pass. Gradually, I began to feel OK again--sort of. I decided that I needed to turn on the AC because I had a sheen of sweat coating me at that point. I got up and made it over to the thermostat before the second wave to darkness descended. Once again, I got down low into to child's position until the sensation passed. First a cold sweat, then chills and then nausea that sent me to the bathroom. Once, all this passed, I decided I might need to drive myself to Urgent Care for antibiotics, a good washing out, etc.
Urgent Care was pretty straight forward, I walked out with antibiotics and a script for the inevitable yeast infection following a course of antibiotics. Several hours later, I arrived back home. I was lazing on the sofa when I thought, "That's strange, I smell gas." I got up and walked over to the stove to find that one of the burners was turned about half way on. What? Sasha! He turned the gas on.
This on Thursday he got me again, this time in my calf and once again with his back claws again. The story this time is not quite so dramatic. Sasha was out on the balcony. I wanted to bring him in, he didn't want to come in. Sasha the angel cat wasn't using weapons at this point because he is a good cat. As I had him between my legs moving him into the living room, my arm brushed up against the trash can which happened to be at about ear level for him. The resulting rattle sent him in a panic, once again using my nearest body part as a push off point. My calf looks like it has a sewing machine running stitch with a very nasty bruise surrounding it.
I rubbed it with Neosporin as pondered if I should either wear cotton wadded clothing when handling the cat or invest in Neosporin?
Then last night it happened again, I smelled gas and found the gas on. Sasha looking very angelic denied getting on the stove. Since I really don't cook, Misha isn't that interested in the stove, Sasha loves to get up there and hang out, and I don't think I have a polergeist he is the likely culprit. I have since removed the knobs to prevent my from waking up in ghostly form one morning or entering into a fire ball because the friction of the key in the lock caused the gas build up to ignite.
If something happens to me, please someone make the police take investigating Sasha seriously.
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