March 29, 2020–Tonight Ruthie, caught up in a zooming frenzy, leaped across me as I was lying on my bed reading, miscalculated, and tumbled over the side. Her initial look of shock changed to consternation as she attempted frantically to arrest her descent. She succeeded by sinking one of her claws into a handy stable object. It was me. In a trice, she neatly hooked my right index finger, which gave her just enough of an anchor to latch onto the bedspread with her other paw and right herself.
She looked up at me with an expression of relief. I looked at her with a different expression. Then I said–and I want to get this just right so it captures the nuance–“AAAAAHHHH!!!!!”
It all happened with bewildering swiftness. One moment I was innocently reading a book; the next, a cat launched across me, scrabbled over the bedside, dug her claw into my finger, and then scooted out of the room.
I washed the blood off, disinfected the small puncture with alcohol, and then applied antibiotic ointment and a bandage. There’s not much else to say about the experience other than that cats are weird creatures. I mean really, really, really weird. To anyone but themselves.