As you might have heard, Brenna is a bit of a gnawer. On me. Particularly my right hand and arm. Saturday morning she was in a chewing mood. She jumped up onto the back of the sofa and proceeded to be painfully cute. When the unsuspecting hand approached and dared to try to pet her, she grabbed it firmly and proceeded to lay to with all fangs sharpened. Then she heard her Meowmie say "OW" and other things that we won't go into here. Brenna knows that she shouldn't make Meowmie say "ow", so she stopped biting the hand to see what was happening to Meowmie. (Did I mention that she doesn't seem to realize that The Hand is attached to me? She protects me from it on a regular basis.)

I proceeded to put tea tree lotion on my (minor) wounds and scolded my mighty protector like the dim hoomin that I am. In the process of scolding her, I moved The Hand in her general vicinity, so (naturally) she attacked again. And tasted tea tree lotion. Which must taste quite foul, judging from her reaction. After recovering, she tentatively tried again, but didn't even make contact with her teeth this time. After making a lot of "icky!!" faces and wiping her tongue on her posterior a couple of times, she looked at The Hand, which was sitting right there taunting her, lifted the Paw of Doom, and BAPPED The Hand twice for it's audacity of becoming foul tasting. Up until this point, I had managed to keep a straight face. I figured that if she learned that The Hand tasted foul, maybe she wouldn't chew on it so much. When she bapped my hand, however, I lost it and started laughing until I cried. I think she realized that I was laughing at the situation, and not her most feline self, as she did not react in an injured, maligned or insulted (except by The Hand) way. The Band-Aids today are almost worth it. I haven't laughed that hard in weeks!

Cats. Whatcha gonna do?

Copyright © Denise Van Dyke
June 18, 2002