Pussycat or Tiger?

No, this is not another American Idol post. This is a cry for help from a battered pet owner. You see, this weekend our male cat lost his ever loving mind. All over me.

I was minding my own business Saturday afternoon, lazily napping on the couch. Suddenly I was under attack! Neko had jumped down from the back of the couch and landed smack dab on my face. Yes, my face. Talk about your rude awakening.

Later that same day Hubby, Neko and I were curled up on the couch watching Moulin Rouge. Neko was serenely reclining on my chest, when something startled him. This is the exact moment when I realize we should have had his back paws declawed as well. When startled, Neko gets the heck out of dodge. But before he dashes away, he has to push off of my body. In the process, he clawed my boob. You read that right. My boob.

So Sunday evening I was sitting on the couch watching TV. Neko was curled up with me and I was doting on him. Evidently he had reached his limit of adoration and affection, because without warning he bit my cheek. Yes, he bit me. Lousy good for nothing horse of a cat!