Monday, May 05, 2008

Sekhmet, you fucker.

For the last two weeks or so, the Goober has been driving Sekhmet wild. Not in a mean sort of way. In an 'I'm two and curious about everything and oh, look! a flicking tail!' sort of way. I've been dragging the Goob away from that poor cat for weeks. So when the Goob started in today, I thought I'd let her start on the curriculum at the School of Hard Knocks and let her and the cat duke it out. Sekhmet's a bitch, right? Snarls at everyone, bites the hand that feeds her, and is an all around pain in the ass. I figured she'd nip the Goob's hand a couple times, the Goober would get the message, and I could quit yelling. Problem solved, Mum's proven right, the cat is left in peace, and all's right with the world.

Yeah, right. When did this cat ever do anything she was supposed to?

The Goober loves grabbing Sekhmet's tail. Sekhmet kept walking away. At one point she (the cat) was trotting across the living room while the Goober ran after her yelling "HEY! Give me my tail! That MY tail!" Does this fucking evil bitch cat from hell bite? No. Does she scratch? NO. Does she do anything but walk away? HELL NO.

Finally I broke down, rescued the cat, and put the Goober down early for her nap with a stern lecture about how tail-pulling hurts and is mean. Sekhmet spent the duration of the nap wrapped around my neck and later puked up her dinner.

Honestly.

Sekhmet, you fucker.

9 comments:

Anonymous said...

yeah, cats are perverse critters, all right.

my scruffy, who looks like sekhmet's twin brother, often curls up near me and purrs me to sleep. the other night, i patted a part of the bed near him as an invitation to him to lie down and the little fucker bit my hand hard enough that it bled in two places.

-- ellen in indy

Catie said...

Growing up we had a wonderful cat named Snuffy. Snuffy liked to play rough and had his claws out for my older brothers and my dad. But as a kid I was allowed to use Snuffy as a pillow. He would just walk away when he had had enough. My parents say that he never ever scratched a kid. Sekhmet is not alone in her tolerance of human kittens.

RobynR said...

Ohhh! That's not just cats. Hubby's grandad had a big mean german shepherd when Mathboy was but a goober himself. The dog decided that Mathboy was his puppy, and protected him from any and all discipline . . . including the many times that Mathboy entertained himself by leaping on the poor beast's testicles. It seems that Mathboy was fond of the noises he made.

MagicChupacabra said...

I think Sekhmet has figured that he can train the goober to be the ultimate human pet.

Thus replacing you.

This is how cats work.

historicstitcher said...

My nasty now-deceased cat Plato aka HellCat would latch onto my arm in the middle of the night and sink his teeth almost to the bone until I beat him against the wall to get him off. My boyfriend of the time still has scars on his hands from trying to pet him.

My son was able to pull his tail, nap on him, "pat" him, and so on, without so much as a slight growl. That cat would simply walk away when my "kitten" was getting intolerable. And come over and bite me, instead.

Roxie said...

And then Sekhmet and the Goober will gang up on you . . .

Amy Lane said...

Awwww... what a sweet kitty! My damned cat does that too...just when you think you need to let them do what cats do, they get all protective over the offspring that tormented them..."My tail, MY tail!" Aren't two -year-olds a particular interesting brand of animal?

Liz said...

Cats're put on earth to increase the quotient of general vexation and thwartedness; and to Prove You Wrong (worst one of these I had recently was telling a prospective catsitter 'oh, yes, Amelia always really goes for this kind of cat food', before said cat put one disdainful paw into it, wiped food up the wall and vanished through the cat-flap...)

Courtney said...

Our goobers are the same age, but I have been blessed with a tolerant feline. Peanut (2 year old girl) and Freedom (tolerant feline) have a blast together. In fact, I think that if I start leaving Peanut's bedroom door open at night, the cat will abandon us and sleep with the kiddo.

Of course, when Freedom gets in a mood swing, no one is safe, not even Peanut's toys. I'm still picking up bits of fiberfill from behind the furniture.