Careful what you whistle…

14 May

So, my cat hates whistling…HATES whistling.  I remember when she was younger, I’d whistle and she’d chase me around the apartment.  Well…

I got home tonight, and was in between undressing from work, and dressing from home.  I’d just laid back on the bed, and was whistling something I’d just heard on the radio.  I was relaxed, and…fairly defenseless.

Sensing my weakness, my 14 pound tabby leaped at me like some sort of Deranged Kato from The Pink Panther.  Claws wide, paws extended towards my face, she came at me out of the darkness of my bedroom.  It was all I could do to grab her, and in doing so, she buried her furry face into my hand.

Knowing she was worked up, I sprang from the bed while rolling her off.  She sprang back up, tail unfurled, haunches raised…stalking me.  Slowly, I backed around the bed.  She matched me step for step…until, suddenly I was in the bathroom, with a door separating us.  She valiantly clawed outside, determined to get me.  But she’d met her match…the doorknob.

Until next time…


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