I'd like to recant every nice thing I said about Charlie in my earlier blog this week due to his once again proving that he is, in fact, spawn from the pit of hell. Or, at the least, a thorn in my side sent to torment me.
This morning as I was getting ready for work, I saw Charlie in his usual spot on the couch. He looked so sweet and cuddly, and my heart was still brimming with warmhearted feelings after our tender moment the other day.
He lured me in and I sat down next to him. Bad move, Rob. You should know better by now. He started purring. I started to pat his head.
It all happened so fast and it's still hard to talk about, but here goes.
He met my gentle head petting with a vicious swipe of his paw on my face, locking his claw into my lip and yanking down hard. As I screamed and flailed my arms to get him to let go, he released his grip on my lip and pounced on my arm, biting my hand and kicking me with his back legs.
Evil cat. Evil cat who I'm stuck with for the rest of his life because other people are smart enough to know better.
Somehow I got away from him and stumbled to the bathroom to survey the blood streaming down my face. He followed me, like a character in some cheesy overrated horror movie. He purred and rubbed himself against my legs. I wiped the blood off my face and put on some makeup. He took off running into the laundry room and made a loud commotion, which turned out to be this:
Oh, Charlie. What am I ever going to do with you?
This morning as I was getting ready for work, I saw Charlie in his usual spot on the couch. He looked so sweet and cuddly, and my heart was still brimming with warmhearted feelings after our tender moment the other day.
He lured me in and I sat down next to him. Bad move, Rob. You should know better by now. He started purring. I started to pat his head.
It all happened so fast and it's still hard to talk about, but here goes.
He met my gentle head petting with a vicious swipe of his paw on my face, locking his claw into my lip and yanking down hard. As I screamed and flailed my arms to get him to let go, he released his grip on my lip and pounced on my arm, biting my hand and kicking me with his back legs.
Evil cat. Evil cat who I'm stuck with for the rest of his life because other people are smart enough to know better.
Somehow I got away from him and stumbled to the bathroom to survey the blood streaming down my face. He followed me, like a character in some cheesy overrated horror movie. He purred and rubbed himself against my legs. I wiped the blood off my face and put on some makeup. He took off running into the laundry room and made a loud commotion, which turned out to be this:
Oh, Charlie. What am I ever going to do with you?
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