Blog Schmog

This picture was taken last month, when these feral beasties were still nursing.

Last night, my dad managed to herd them into our house so we could cage them and get them to the shelter to be spayed and neutered.

Of course, they didn’t like the separation that ensued when their mom bolted out the back door.

They went apesh*t and started to jump four feet into the air, scrambling over countertops, knocking over plates and dished… Even a butcher knife went flying.

Me, being eternally eight years old, got over excited and went to pick one up, hoping to soothe it like once before.

And then, it sunk it jaws right through my index finger.

Four hours, a script for heavy antibiotics, and a promise to monitor our new captures for ten days so as to avoid a series of rabies shots… I’m back to wishing I could pick them up like when they teeny tiny and still mewing.

As my friend Bryn stated on my facebook wall, “Holy crap! You traveled to places with wild beasts only to be attacked by a cat on long island. So bizarre!! “