SuperSatellite ||

Well, the move is 80% done. We are now living in the new house, all the furniture is there, and almost all the plain old crap. Still a lot of cleaning to do at the old house. But the real story is the cat. My precious little Isis. Little Isis managed to drop me. A frickin’ house cat rolled me to the floor and kicked my ass. See, my parents have my pet carrier right now, which forced me to move Isis without one. We got her into the truck with only a little effort. She didn’t like that one bit, but she managed. The problem came when trying to get her into the house.

Naturally, I forgot the advice my grandmother had given me a few months ago when trying to get a cat to do something that it doesn’t want to: wrap it in a towel from the neck down. Instead, I tried to carry her (away from my body at least). She got one foot on the doorframe and it was off to the races. I have never seen a domesticated cat go into a fight or flight response like this in person. Needless to say, she’s inside now by the sheer grace of Buddha. While I was writhing and fending off her attack on the floor, I was able to kick the door shut. I am nothing but bruises and cat scratches head to toe. And not little playful scratches. She caught my wrist about a half inch from the artery. She cut me on the arms and under the armpit. My back was waylayed. And she managed to carve out two puncture holes in my shoulder in a last ditch effort to launch herself away.

She had forgiven me enough by the end of the night to come out from under the bed for some pets. I’m certainly still paying for my judgment today though. Live and learn kids.