This is the rather splendid crest of Clan Mackintosh, into which, give or take a few spelling changes, I married more years ago than I care to remember. The motto, in plain English, means "Don't touch the cat without wearing a glove", and I have always taken it to mean that Mackintoshes are prickly sorts who need careful handling. Not today. Today, I was on Molly duty. Molly, as some of my readers will understand, is the Rectory cat, and she was requiring to be fed while her human was away. To cut a longish story painfully short, she bit me. I admit it was probably an instinctive move on both sides - I moved too quickly to rescue some papers she had skited to the floor, and she moved even more quickly to defend her territory. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you ....As a result of this mishap, I have had my tetanus shot updated. They asked at the surgery how long it had been. "More than five years," I replied, airily. Turned out I last had a shot in 1989. Tempus fugit an' that. And they don't just give you a tetanus jab now - it's combined with diphtheria and polio inoculations. But I was glad to take precautions - I have a dear friend currently suffering from septicaemia as a result of a gardening injury to a finger. I imagine he wasn't wearing gloves either.
And another finger story - this time of amazing dexterity. I knew the days of questioning the use of mobile phones in education were numbered when my pupil whipped out her phone today to call her dad. She can touch-text. I've never seen someone text as quickly as I can type while conducting a conversation and looking at me, not the phone. I was dead impressed. I just hope her thumb can stand the pace.
There I was quietly minding my own buisiness in the recotry when I heard the car come up. 'At last,' I though. 'My human's home.' But no. It was this short haired invader with pink fur. I know her of course. A bit. So we began the rituals: I rubbed my cheek up the wall by the door, making it clear she was entering my territory. I lured her up the stairs so that I could swat at her through the rails if need be -- but she we being nice, so we rubbed noses instead. I even though we might have breakfast together, so I went to sit at the computer while she got our food. And then the beast turned on me. When I jumped up to the computer I slipped (horrid congregational role). Then, at the very moment when I was defenseless, the pink one lashed out at me. All I could do was stick out a tooth and my aim was right. It was. Soft yield of flesh and rush of blood. Human yelp, then she was gone. Though she did have the decency to put my breakfast down first.
ReplyDeleteYou will note that Molly is American. And totally self-centred....
ReplyDeleteAnd that is why I don't like cats! But... I do like texting and feel that I can break down the stereotype that men can't do two things at once. I am forever texting and talking - I like to think of it as an art...
ReplyDeleteMolly, you had a narrow escape. The pink human comes to my house frequently wearing walking boots. Naturally enough I undertake my dog duty to hurl myself at the door barking in joyous greeting, usually adding a few laps of the garden for good measure, and what does the pink one do? She shouts at me, that's what. AND it isn't complimentary, I'm sure (my grasp of human language is rudimentary, of course, being a dog, but I recognise most words connected with walks and this doesn't sound like any of them). Perhaps I should try your approach. Next time I'll go for the biting option too. Did she taste like chicken?
ReplyDeletePoor Molly. I hope she is well.
ReplyDeleteChristine - you should remember who is the visitor in the rectory...
Wife of no. 1 son
May I point out two little things? One, I did not raise my voice in the slightest; two, I was there to serve. I rest my case.
ReplyDeleteDogs are *quite* another matter.
[Snigger]
ReplyDeleteI wish I had teeth.