cat scratch fever

Do you ever go through life thinking, "this could only happen to me?" I feel like that is my life's motto. This is just another example.

***

The request was simple: stop in on my friend's cat a few times while she and her husband were in Myrtle Beach. They only live about 10 minutes away and I was happy to help, so I said yes.

Today was my first day on duty. To say it didn't go well is the understatement of the century.

When I arrived at their house, I was greeted by the cat at the top of the stairs. The greeting went fine. She sniffed my hand, let me pet her and then she went on with her business. The first thing I noticed was a birthday gift for me on their dining room table (which was an extremely nice surprise) so I went over to open it.

All of the sudden and completely out of nowhere, while I was reading my birthday card, the cat charged me and started attacking my legs - my bare exposed legs. On a 95+ degree day, it never occurred to me that maybe I would be safer wearing long pants to check on the cat. First mistake.

After she released my legs from her wrath, I tried to run away from her but she chased me, trying to attack me again. I swung my purse at her and then she attacked my purse. She was literally hanging from my cloth purse. I panicked and ran into their bedroom and shut the door behind me.

I opened the door slightly, hoping to find her gone when she tried to charge through the door and attack me through the crack. I quickly slammed the door. I did this about three more times until I finally realized, this cat was not going anywhere.

So now I'm trapped in their bedroom. I decided to borrow some pants and put them on under my skirt. At least this way my legs would be protected if when I get attacked again. So I grabbed the thickest pair of pants I could find - trusty old corduroy.  After I put the pants on, I noticed a spray bottle in their bedroom so I grabbed it.

When I opened the bedroom door to leave, as expected, the cat was right there waiting for me. She tried to lunge me again and I pulled the trigger on the water bottle. Although she would back up one step while I was spraying her in the face, she never ran away. As soon as I would stop spraying, she would try to attack me again.

So I just kept spraying until finally she laid down about a foot away from me. And of course, she laid down directly in my path to the food and water bowl. So now I was completely stuck. One move forward and she would attack me again, eliminating my chances of checking on her food and water - the entire purpose of my trip.

I didn't want to call my friend and bother her so I called my husband instead. Over and over again and he never answered. I knew he was out working in the garage and I knew his phone was in the house, but wishfully hoping he would go inside, I just kept calling. It didn't work.

So I called my mom instead. Although she tried to be supportive, she really had no good advice (except to leave) and all she could say was, "I know it might be too soon, but this is actually really funny," And she was right. It was too soon since I hadn't even made it out of the house alive yet.

Taking my Mom's advice, I slowly backed my way out of the house, spray bottle still in hand, and decided to call it a day. As I was locking the door, Pat finally called me back and I explained to him the situation. He sounded absolutely disgusted with me that after all the time I had spent there, I still hadn't even checked on the cat's food and water.

He clearly didn't understand the gravity of this situation. But being the knight-in-shining-armor husband that he is, he told me he would come over to help. He laughed at me when I suggested he wear long pants and a long sleeve shirt and to bring our broom.

But he must have decided to trust me because when he showed up, he was armed with all three.

How pathetic and defeated (and hot) I looked when Pat got there.

So it turns out the broom was a great idea. Although the cat proceeded to attack it, she was no match for Pat and the broom. He was able to check on the food and water, grab my birthday gift and get out of the house unscathed.

My battle wounds.

That makes one of us.

To add insult to injury, my gas light came on during my drive home so I stopped to get gas. It wasn't until about halfway through filling up my tank that I realized I still had the corduroy pants on, unbuttoned and unzipped, underneath my skirt.

By the time I remembered, the pants were already sagging halfway down my legs. Coupled with my big, pregnant belly, it was a really classy look for me.

I couldn't make this stuff up if I wanted to.