nesting * geeking * critiquing

Feline Deception

I’m not a scaredy cat, but I am scared of my cat.  It’s amazing how something this adorable…

…can be so utterly evil.  Exposed fangs dripping with venom, growling hiss eliciting fear in the bravest of hearts, blue eyes flashing red and burning into your soul.  Sith cat if I’ve ever seen one.

Several years ago, before I realized her true nature, I asked the vet about getting some kitty hormone-replacement therapy.   “Some cats are just like that,” he said, as if I’d never owned a cat before.  Yeah, well, I have—grew up with a black cat who was either weak in the Force or leaned more toward Jedi tendencies.  Maybe “some cats” are mean, but this is waaaay beyond that.  Like, leaves-scars-from-biting-you different.

Honestly, I’m afraid to leave my room at night.  Storm has a way of lurking in a dark corner and attacking when least expected.  Though her snuggle time is possibly even more dangerous.  Loving and cuddling and then…like a cobra, she coils back and strikes.  No claws, just teeth.  Jagged, bloody, ugly scars.  She’s good.

Even so, I love her.  I’m like the codependent domestic abuse victims who refuse to file charges against the beater.  What a stupid thing love can be.

I’m at once proud and horrified.  The Dark Side of the Force is strong in this one, yet I know she lusts only for my destruction.  Storm will turn ten this fall.  I will let her.



Unrelated: I just noticed a little happy face in the corner of my edit screen.  Nice work, Word Press!


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