Misha

So you've seen a couple pics of Harmony, our sweet feline. Here is Misha, our slightly less sweet one. He's a great cat, don't get me wrong, but he doesn't come running when Owen starts screaming to make sure his 'baby' is ok, he doesn't like to lick your scalp and he's much more prone to running off when Owen comes cackling in his direction.

Probably the most 'unsweet' part about him is his 6am "Mrrooooooooorrrrrrrggghhhh!" at our bedroom door for food. For pete's sake, cat, can't you wait 45 more freaking minutes? No, he can't, he just keeps on the growly meow until we get up and refill his bowl.

However, that is still better than what he did to me one night. I was EXHAUSTED (surprising, huh?) and this was a few years ago...I had been down to help my aunt and uncle with some hurricane clean up. Didn't get much sleep there, no power, house boarded up, sweltering, a bad encounter with their Basenji (another story) but needless to say, I was more than a little excited about crawling into our then waterbed, in the air conditioning, for a long night of snoozing.

Back then, we had put a cat door in our bedroom to give the cats 2 rooms of 'safety' from the dog. Then we realized that the cats roaming around on the bed at night didn't really provide a restful atmosphere, so we started jamming pillows into the hole to keep them out. But the smart little cats that they are realized that enough pushing, tugging and wiggling would eventually get the pillow out so some nights one of us would have to get up and re-stuff the pillow, chase out cats, etc. That night happened to be one of those nights.

I was PISSED at having a cat wake me up. I could say the word 10 times and still not convey the anger I felt at that moment. I grabbed the cat and stormed for the door. But oh no! SOMEbody left her overnight bag right next to the bed. I tripped on the bag and went face forward toward the floor. Arms full of cat, I had no way to catch myself. Then something stopped my fall. It was the collision of my left boob with the wooden corner of the waterbed frame.

I'm pretty sure I started screaming curse words, although in reality I don't know how I would have been lucid enough to even from a short 4 letter bit of recognizable English. My whole body weight crashing to be stopped by the point of a wooden corner, padded only by my poor left boob, dead center no less, it makes me cringe even now to remember it. I think I have tears in my eyes at the thought. I was pretty sure I had broken it, mangled up the insides, cracked ribs and maybe even caused a cardiac contusion. Ok, that's stretching it a tad but I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to nurse a baby on that side again. Luckily, the plumbing seems fine.

The next day a piece of cardboard was stapled over the hole. And now we have new doors, with no cat hole. I suppose listening to a little meowrowling is better than breaking my boob.

He's lucky I love him.