I know…I know…

I know I’ve promised a hurricane update for weeks now. It just seems like I still don’t have my feet back under me from Ike’s vicious sweep of the legs.

It was tough. And there are people here who STILL don’t have electricity. Not to mention the devastation in Galveston.

But there’s one thing I would like to report before giving my full description of Ike:

The apartment cat is okay. He’s alive and well actually.

I have to admit that when I made the trip home to survey the damage, I was sort of nervous that no one thought to take the apartment cat inside during the storm. I didn’t see him anywhere. And you know he smells my dislike. That’s usually when he chooses to rub up against my legs so that tripping over him or a sever rash is inevitable.

But for days he was a no show.

Then on Wednesday night, I heard the familiar scream of horror that those of us living in my complex have learned to tune out. He was scrapping with the neighbor’s cat. Oh happy day! He survived the storm!

The next morning, I open the door, check my stoop for “presents” and left my apartment for work. The cat is catching an early morning nap beside the stairs. Feeling a bit sentimental, I take my foot and rub three times on his belly. Only three.

That’s when home boy decides to grab my leg with his filthy cat claws and hang on for dear life while I flail my leg about to try and get him to let go. As I swing him round and round with all my might, I can feel scratches on one side and a single claw digging deeper on the other.

There was blood people. And a semi infection that’s not too bad, but STILL AN INFECTION.

This is why cats are evil. Never again my feline friend. Never again.

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