Zena, our youngest cat, is at that "playful but predatory" stage. This means that all the ankles in the house are to be stalked and pounced upon at any time, without warning. Zena is also a jumper, so elbows are also considered to be likely prey. Actually, anything that is moving is considered to be prey to this cat. My older cats don't do this. They never did. I'm not used to being pounced on by things with claws.
I had the bright idea that if I played with Zena, maybe she wouldn't be so eager to pounce on everything. I couldn't find any of the toy mice we had for her. So I sat on the floor, placed my hand on the carpet and moved my hand back and forth quickly.
Zena's eyes locked on my hand with laser precision. She put her head down and her butt in the air. Her head moved with the motion of my hand. Her back legs did a little two-step, and then she was airborne. She landed on my hand and immediately started to bite me as she gripped my hand with her front paws. And claws.
That was when I remembered that you aren't supposed to DO what I was doing, because it teaches the cat to bite hands that might want to pet instead of be clawed. I bought all kinds of books when I acquired my first cat, Isobel. That was over ten years ago, and I've slept since then. But it was too late. Zena's back paws were digging into my palm and her front claws were digging into the top of my hand and she had my index finger in a death grip with her teeth.
Ow.
I was feeling like an idiot and hoping that I don't drip blood on the carpet. I remembered that you aren't supposed to pull away when a cat has their claws in you, because that makes any injuries worse. I did try to get Zena to loosen her grip, but that just seemed to make her dig in deeper.
So I sat there and was as still as I could be in spite of the pain, but Zena determined that my hand was not dead for several more minutes. Finally, she was satisfied that my hand had been vanquished, and she released me and loped off. Only a couple of the puncture wounds were bleeding, so I cleaned them as best I could, and we all went about our day. I felt very stupid about the whole episode.
Zena just took a nap. Cats are cool like that.
Showing posts with label playing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label playing. Show all posts
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Was It Wrong to Laugh?
We went to a party at my brother's house. It was a comfortably small party, with delicious food and good wine. After a time, all the other boys, ages 3 to 14, went outside to play in the back yard. Zane wanted to go with them. Larry said that he didn't want Zane to go outside, but I put a coat on Zane and let him go out with the other boys, who were playing soccer. I sat on the porch watching while Zane started running after the soccer ball that the other kids were kicking.
There are about 40,000 soccer balls(not kidding--I counted) in my brother's backyard. The other boys were running too fast for Zane, so he stopped and found another ball to play with. He was perfectly happy to kick his own ball instead of expecting the others to cater to him.
I cautioned the older boys about using the smaller ones as speed bumps, and that was the extent of my comments. Boys like to run and play, so let them run and play. The older boys made minor adjustments so as not to run over the little ones, and all was well. Zane did get knocked down one time when he ran in front of a teenager, but he was fine. I know this because I checked.
As we were driving home, I got to hear a lecture from Larry about how the older boys could have hurt Zane and we could have been going to the emergency room, etc. All the way home, I hear about how we should be careful so Zane doesn't get hurt, etc. I ended up feeling pretty rotten. I was being a terrible mom when I allowed Zane to run and play like that, is what I heard. (Perception being in the eye or ear of the beholder, and all that.)
After we get home, we all head upstairs to "put on the jammies", as Zane says. I pause in the bathroom to get my blood pressure medication. I hear Larry and Zane walking out of the bedroom, heading towar the stairs. I hear a thud, then Zane crying. I went to investigate.
After all that talk about being careful with Zane, my husband let Zane walk right into a wall.
There are about 40,000 soccer balls(not kidding--I counted) in my brother's backyard. The other boys were running too fast for Zane, so he stopped and found another ball to play with. He was perfectly happy to kick his own ball instead of expecting the others to cater to him.
I cautioned the older boys about using the smaller ones as speed bumps, and that was the extent of my comments. Boys like to run and play, so let them run and play. The older boys made minor adjustments so as not to run over the little ones, and all was well. Zane did get knocked down one time when he ran in front of a teenager, but he was fine. I know this because I checked.
As we were driving home, I got to hear a lecture from Larry about how the older boys could have hurt Zane and we could have been going to the emergency room, etc. All the way home, I hear about how we should be careful so Zane doesn't get hurt, etc. I ended up feeling pretty rotten. I was being a terrible mom when I allowed Zane to run and play like that, is what I heard. (Perception being in the eye or ear of the beholder, and all that.)
After we get home, we all head upstairs to "put on the jammies", as Zane says. I pause in the bathroom to get my blood pressure medication. I hear Larry and Zane walking out of the bedroom, heading towar the stairs. I hear a thud, then Zane crying. I went to investigate.
After all that talk about being careful with Zane, my husband let Zane walk right into a wall.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)