joy in simplicity.

Oh yeah, doesn't that face look sweet? I've always thought so, too. Until the little booger sinks her teeth into my hand and bites the heck out of it.

So here's how this happened. My mom accidentally let her out on the porch with the bird out. So I walked out onto the porch to to take care of the situation, and make sure my cat doesn't bite the birds head off (she would). My step-dad walked out onto the porch to take care of it, too. I picked my cat up, was walking back inside, and before I know it my cat is flailing around in my arms, throwing a hissy fit, chomps down on my hand, and puts her claws into my stomach.

You may be thinking to yourself "She's whining over that? Really? What's her problem? She needs to buck up." Well, the truth of the matter is that I don't even think I'm whining over the fact that my cat just punctured my hand and stomach and that I'm continuing to find tiny scratches all over my arms. I think it's the fact that my cat bit me, that's got me reeling. Maybe if you are a mother you can compare this to a time when your child has hurt you. Jenny Simmons said it best here. I feed this thing, scoop her poop, love her. Things that a mother would do, right? This is how she repays me? By biting me? Shoot. That cat had better stay as far out of my site as she can for the next few hours. I'm mad. Even if there's a possibility that she did it because her tail got stuck in the door...